Pimpin' Peace and Perversion
by Mal Masque
Summary: The Black Baron is one of the most perverse and aggressive people in the ranks of the IDA, so naturally he is selected by the very leader of the IDA to lead a mission to a world where the concept of dirty jokes doesn't exist. What will follow is slurs, swears, sex, violation of the law, and rap. (Crossover with Shimoneta, Saints Row, Jet Set, Panty and Stocking, and others)
1. Prologue: Bourbon Street

**Pimpin' Peace and Perversion**

 _An IDA Adventure of XXX Proportions_

 _Starring everyone's Favorite Pimp, the Black Baron!_

* * *

Prologue: Bourbon Street

* * *

If you were to ask anyone who has been to Base Prime 'what is the premiere place to see things and have a good time?', they would point you to Bourbon Street in Hunter's Gambit. While others would suggest the Void Vineyard, the bar located at the prestigious Hotel Nebula, or the Treble Clef Theater, the grand music hall featuring outstanding performances daily, the real party center is Bourbon Street, a massive strip mall filled with various food stands, bars and restaurants, clubs for all goers, and has the best night life in all of Base Prime. If you want to go out with buddies, get a guy or girl, get absolutely wasted and wake up in someone else's bed with a hangover and someone's arm slung around you after a night you can't remember, Bourbon Street is the place to go. Granted, like everywhere else in Base Prime, Bourbon Street is monitored by one of the IDA's minor groups, more specifically the Nightlife Lords.

The Nightlife Lords, who are in no way just a group of vampires (despite one of the larger goth clubs being run by an 'in-crowd' vampire), consist of various members of societal ill-reputewho run different sections of Bourbon Street's many aspects, and many of them being partially respected (yet also greatly feared) residents of the Street itself, their names being so common, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who didn't know their names. Every party goer and late-night clubber knew how Vinyl Scratch and DJ Professor K ran the remix airwaves, all the drunkards and barflies knew how Gragas and Mr. Fizz kept the beer tabs running, anyone who crossed the criminal families feared the acts that Don Weaso and Sir Crocodile would inflict upon them, and of course, every patron of a fine escort for a night would know and praise the name of the Black Baron.

Now the Baron is special. This is a man, a man who has no common decency, is incredibly rude, lewd, incredibly racist, foul-mouthed, even fouler tempered, mildly unpleasant to be around, and one of the two best pimps in all of Base Prime. Not to mention he isn't even a real Baron… or even black, for that matter. But for some reason, the Black Baron, former Champion of DeathWatch turned Bounty Hunter, is one of the most highly respected members of the Nightlife Lords, constantly receiving waves and offers of booze (and even a few women throwing themselves at him) whenever he took a stroll down Bourbon Street, always out and about with a massive smile on his face. A true enigma, yet nobody really wanted to question it. Whenever the Black Baron and his girl, Mathilda, were out, everyone was going to have a good time.

It was on one afternoon, just a few hours shy of dinnertime, when Bourbon Street was just about ready to get things stared. Vendors were just starting to open up their stands, DJs were getting their music selections ready for the oncoming party storm, the barkeeps were checking their reserves and stock, and of course, everyone was waiting for the man of the hour to get things kicking. One of the many rules of being a Nightlife Lord is that, on rotation, you are required to announce the start of Bourbon Street's nightlife hours. And this week's honor went to the Black Baron. Nobody could see hide or hair of the Bishop of Blood and Carnage anywhere, and the opening ceremonies were going to start at any moment. One of the Nightlife Lords, a small anthropomorphic weasel wearing a black suit and sunglasses whilst smoking a stogie cigar, none other than the infamous Don Weaso, was standing by the unlit firecracker that was supposed to go off to signal the party getting started.

"Where the hell is that big galoot?" Don Weaso sighed, his choppy Italian accent made raspy by his cigar smoking. He turned to one of his cohorts, another weasel in a suit holding a Tommy gun, and gave him an irritated glance. "Ya did remind the Baron it was _his_ turn to start the parties, right Lucca?"

"Yeah, yeah, boss!" The other weasel, Lucca, said, nodding his head rapidly. "I passed the message along to the girl that's always with him. She said she'd let the Baron know!" Don Weaso eyed Lucca carefully, watching as beads of sweat run down the other weasel's forehead. After waiting for the guy to crack, Don Weaso relented, taking a puff of his cigar.

"Good, at least ya did the job right, Lucca." Weaso said, eliciting a sigh of relief from his underling. "Although, I have one thing to comment on in regards to your method of completion." The Mobster Weasel grabbed Lucca's tie and pulled him close until both their faces were practically touching. "How did ya expect a girl like Mathilda to tell the Baron to get his ass over here when SHE DOESN'T TALK TO ANYONE?!"

"Because she didn't need to tell me," Said the all too familiar voice of a newcomer. "After all, the Baron never misses out on a public appearance." The two weasels turned around and saw, standing right before them, was the man of the hour himself, the Black Baron. The incredibly muscular African-American man stood tall above the two weasels (and most normal humans, in all fair honesty), wearing a flashy yellow overcoat, cargo pants, and fedora, sporting a pair of thick shades on his smug face, a glitz smile gracing his slightly bearded face, and sporting a pair of orange-golden gauntlets that just radiated heat. Standing next to him was Mathilda, a gorgeous woman with violet hair wearing a pair of sunglasses, a small leather jacket, and an incredibly over-sexualized skin-tight purple outfit. "'Sup, Weaso?"

"Ah, Black Baron," Don Weaso said, greeting the Baron with a warm smile after releasing his death-grip on Lucca. "So nice of you to finally grace us with your… interesting and unique presence…" The Baron laughed loudly, clapping Weaso on the shoulder (the Baron's strength making it feel like a boulder was dropped on the mobster).

"Shit, Don, Ah wouldn't miss getting' nightlife started for all the bottles of bub in the world!" The Baron proudly said, walking over to the massive firecracker. "Especially since Ah got to pick out the popper this time." He gave the large gold and red canister a few taps. "Ah'm surprised that my choice made it past those shitheads at the regulations board."

"We told them it was a giant cupcake looming over the hills." Don Weaso said with a light chuckle. "The folks at regulations are way too gullible."

"Ya got that right, Don." The Baron said. "Alright, where's my mike and music?!" Mathilda produced a silver microphone studded with various jewels, handing it to the Baron while men in jazz suits took up positions by the firecracker, each standing next to an instrument of choice for the opening ceremony. "Thanks baby. Ahem," The Baron turned on the microphone, eliciting a high pitched whine from the speakers all across Bourbon Street. Everyone's eyes turned towards the center of the street, smiles gleaming and ready with anticipation. The show had begun.

"Ladies and gentlemen, patrons of Base Prime's own Bourbon Street," The Baron loudly proclaimed, using his slick and suave voice to lure in the crowd. "Y'all know what time it is, and the Black Mutha Fuckin' Baron, stop starin', is once again proud to let y'all in to the wonderful nightlife of this fine establishment." Mathilda and Don Weaso both gave small smirks as the Baron gave his speech. "When Ah light the night's Hanabi Cracker, the nightlife can officially begin, and y'all can do whatever it is yo' greedy, putrid heart's desire. Get yo' grove on at the loads of nightclubs and party palaces and dance until y'all legs are jello. Drink everyone under the table at the bars and pubs until that ugly lookin' piece of shit sitting in booth three looks like a pair of hot models from Aruba. And, if y'all are lookin' for a real good time, partake in one of the many lovely ladies of the night and have yo'selves a real fine ass evenin'." He turned to the musicians on standby, giving them a tell-all nod. "Now, let the Baron give y'all a little somethin' before the party REALLY gets started. Hit it, boys." The musicians immediately broke out into a bouncy and catchy tune, the Baron twirling the microphone between his fingers. Finally, he stepped off the stage and walked down the street, doing one thing many people love the Baron for: singing. **(*)**

" _Well, I've been livin' in sin for 'bout a month,_ " The Baron sang, passing several people along the way. " _Somethin' turns me 'round, it's somethin' that I just,"_ He stopped, sampling a bottle of beer a patron offered him. " _Can't understand, the way I behave. Some people you can never save!_ " He slung an arm around Mathilda, who walked alongside him, swaying her hips seductively. " _On my right hand, I got a girl on my ear. And in my left hand,_ " He took a quick swig of the beer. " _Throwin' back a beer. What can I say? Of me, you steer clear._ " He tossed the bottle away, nailing some poor sap on the head. " _When I'm drivin' down on Bourbon Street, oh yeah!"_ The Baron held Mathilda's hands, the two of them dancing side by side in the street as the instruments played on. _"'Cuz every night we throw a little soiree,"_ He spun Mathilda about, leaning her back. " _I'm gonna turn her head until she's mine, all mine._ " Mathilda fell upon the ground with a thud when the Baron dropped her as he continued dancing on his own. " _Every night I breed a new disaster. I might be right, I might be wrong._ " He jumped upon a table, startling the patrons having drinks. " _Try to get away and I will bring you right along!_ " The Baron hopped off the table, clutching a bottle of the Street's namesake and began pouring the patrons drinks. _"Sit back, have a seat! Sometimes salty, sometimes sweet!_ " While the patrons enjoyed their drinks, the Baron bounded off back onto the road. " _You ain't never leavin' Bourbon Street!"_ While the rest of the patrons and the Baron sang and partied as the night is just about to begin, Don Weaso was approached by a pale man wearing a plaid red and black shirt, a black hood pulled over his eyes.

"Don Weaso," The hooded man said, his mouth gleaming with sharpened teeth. "I have an urgent message that must be passed along to the Black Baron." Don Weaso turned to address the hooded man, a small smile working its way onto his lips.

"Ah, one of the Watchers," Don Weaso regarded. "What do I owe the pleasure of one of Zedekiah Strong's personal men coming into our humble establishment of Bourbon Street?" The Watcher reached into his pocket and produced a small letter, sealed with an ink-red stamp marked by an eight-spoked spike wheel, the symbol of the Chaos Company.

"Give that letter to the Baron," The Watcher instructed. "It comes from the highest power, Zedekiah Strong himself. Make sure only he reads it." Just as the Watcher turned away, he quickly shifted back, looking down at the weasel mobster. "Oh, and don't try and read it yourself. The scientists made sure that if someone that _isn't_ the recipient opens the letter, it will explode. So long." And as quick as he came, the Watcher was gone. Don Weaso stared at the letter in his hands, wondering what was inside and why it came from the Chaos Company, one of the four Major IDA Groups. Before Weaso could investigate any further, the Baron returned to his position by the firecracker, dripping with sweat and smiling a golden smile (both literal and figurative).

"And that's how you get things fuckin' done!" The Baron said between breaths. "And now, without further stalling," He lit a match and grasped the wick of the massive firecracker in one hand. "Let's light this bitch up." One press of a burning flame on an easily flammable wick, and the show was just about to get started. The Baron looked up in pride as he waited for his masterpiece to go off and light up the night sky in a glamorous image befitting a man of his stature. However, just as the wick neared the firework proper, the Baron noticed an odd tugging on his ankle. He looked down and saw Mathilda, smirking as she tugged at a small black rope that was tied to his own ankle. Following the length of the rope, the Baron saw it trailing from his ankle all… the way… to… oh no. Before the Baron could react, the rocket went off, shooting off into the sky and bringing the Baron along for a ride. As the light went up into the sky, everyone could hear the faint shout of one of the Baron's trademark sayings. "AW HELL NAW!" The lights went off, lighting up the sky in a shower of red, yellow, and green as everyone gazed in awe (while also keeping an eye out for anything the Baron may have "left behind"). The nightlife of Bourbon Street had finally begun.

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location, just a few miles away from Bourbon Street, the Watcher walked alone, carefully navigating the paths in the darkness while the lights of Base Prime's premiere party place illuminated off in the distance. The hooded man reached into his pocket, pulling out a small circular device, pressing a button on it while it illuminated a light blue glow.

"The message has been delivered, sir." The Watcher said into the device. "The Baron and his 'mistress' will be on their way as soon as possible."

"Excellent work, Watcher." The device produced a soft, kindhearted British voice. "The Black Baron and Mathilda are the perfect agents for this mission."

"But are you certain we can trust him to get it done right?" The Watcher asked, worriedly. "I've read his files, and gotten interviews with both Jack Cayman and Leonhardt, and they both say the Baron is more prone to making sexual comments than actually getting things done."

"Which is why he is perfect," The voice on the device responded. "Especially with the team we'll be sending him with. Now, deliver the letters to the Saint Headquarters, the Angel's Watchtower, and the Wei Embassy. Once the team is assembled, we'll inform them of this dire mission. Zedekiah Strong, out." The light on the device faded, leaving the Watcher alone with his thoughts. He didn't like the idea of such members of ill repute being involved in such a high stakes mission, but he wasn't one to judge Zedekiah Strong's actions. He _is_ the leader of the IDA after all. The Watcher turned around, once again turning his sights to Bourbon Street off in the distance. The fireworks had just gone off, and the Watcher had only one thought on his mind to rival all others.

"Why is there a giant flaming phallus in the sky?"

* * *

 _Author's Note: We have been waiting to do this for a LONG time. This, ladies and gentlemen, is going to be a crossover between Anarchy Reigns and one of our new favorite anime shows of all time "Shimoneta: The Boring World Where the Concept of Dirty Jokes Doesn't Exist". This idea is just too perfect, too absolutely golden, to pass up (and I'm surprised it hasn't even been done yet, to be honest). This story will be updated at random intervals, and is actually set before the events of IDA Ultimate Tournament. So, kick back, relax, and enjoy the lewdness and utter depravity that will come your way._

 _~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask_

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 **CREATIVE CONSULTANT'S NOTE: The titles of all the chapters are actually songs that will make an appearance in the actual chapter. There will be a (*) symbol when the song starts, as well as a follow-up to credit the artist. For this prologue, the song was "Bourbon Street" by Jeff Tuohy. In my opinion, jazz trumps all music (don't tell my boss).**

 **~IDA Official, Creative Lead Red Rider**


	2. Chapter 1: Here We Go!

**Chapter One: Here We Go!**

* * *

The Baron awoke groggily in his bed to the sound of his alarm blaring in his ears. Groaning from both soreness and the irritating high pitched whine of the clock to his side, the Baron slammed his fist on the clock, both shutting it up and smashing it flat in the process, before ultimately falling back asleep in bed, mumbling to himself about how wild last night was. He remembered vague details of what happened: he was going to start off the nightlife at Bourbon Street as per his duties as a Nightlife Lord, he showed up fashionably late just to piss off Don Weaso, he did that whole dance number and got incredibly wasted, then he lit the firework that he purposely commissioned to look exactly like a massive dick, and then… His eyes shot open, remembering _exactly_ how his night went out: with a bang.

"Motha fucka!" The Baron exclaimed, shooting up from his bed and throwing off the leopard skin blanket off his muscular body. He ran to his closet in the red walled room, hastily put on his yellow attire, slipped on his gauntlet, and stormed into the den/kitchen. Most IDA apartments come with at least five rooms, and the Baron had his specially commissioned that the den and kitchen would share the same space for 'easy access to the booze in the kitchen'. Inside the light red room, filled with black leather furniture, the Baron spotted Mathilda idly reading the newspaper, dressed in her standard attire. "You bitch!"

"Oh, mornin', daddy." Mathilda said, referring to the Baron by his other title. He may be the Bishop of Blood and Carnage _and_ a licensed bounty hunter, but the Baron always saw himself as a pimp, first and foremost, and expected to be referred to as such.

"Don't ya 'oh, mornin', daddy' me, Mathilda!" The Baron snapped, trudging over to the refrigerator. "Y'all tied me to the fireworks and sent my ass to the fuckin' moon, and NOT in the fun way!" Mathilda snickered, returning to her paper as the Baron pulled out a sandwich and sat himself down on a large chair. "Ah gotta keep y'all on a tight leash, but I think y'all would like that kinda punishment. Ha!" He laughed at his own joke, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich, while Mathilda simply rolled her eyes. "Eh, whatevah. Let's see what's on the news." The Baron grabbed a TV remote that sat on the side and turned on the 70 plasma screen TV opposite him, the default IDA news channel coming up.

"Our top story today," The news robot onscreen said, an image of a coat of arms sporting a winged sword appearing next to its head. "Tension between the Inter-Dimensional Agency and the Order of Purity are at record highs, the Order having made several actions that ride dangerously close to violating the Treaty of Three the IDA has with the Order and the Army of Abominations." Footage appeared of several soldiers in bright armor, some carrying swords and shields while others sported futuristic guns, running across a decimated landscape. "The Order of Purity has been sending its troops to occupy and 'protect' universes that have yet to develop trans-universal travel and communications, an already grievous violation of the rules set down by the IDA after the infamous Void Invasion."

"Bunch of pretty boys thinkin' they can play angels in a world o' devils." The Baron scoffed, reclining in his chair. "It's a buncha bullshit, if ya ask me."

"We managed to get an interview with one of the Order Exemplars, Sir Lawrence," The news robot continued, pulling up an image of a man with long brown hair wearing a suit of shiny knight armor, sporting the Order's emblem on his chest. "And asked his opinion on the matter."

"We are only doing what Sir Fredrick believes is best for everyone," Sir Lawrence explained, his tone incredibly annoyed and slightly panicked. "These people are constantly being beset by evils they cannot handle on their own, and we'd be just as villainous ourselves if we ignored their plight, regardless if they have the technology and capabilities we do."

"All of them Exemplars, Paladins, Scribes, Priests and Knights," The Baron rambled, grabbing another sandwich. "They all just a bunch of pussies. Ah bet that they'd all get pissy if y'all said a fuckin' cuss word in the same room as them." He glanced over at Mathilda, who continued to read her paper. "Yo baby, how much y'all wanna bet that Sir Larry up there still got his cherries, eh?" Mathilda could hardly suppress a giggle. "Yeah, you like that one, don't ya?" The Baron's eyes fell upon the letter that was laying on the table. "The hell did that come from?"

"Don Weaso gave it to me after you lit up the Street." Mathilda said, ignoring the glare the muscular pimp shot at her. "Said a Watcher told him to give it to you and it would explode if anyone other than you opened it." The Baron picked up the envelope, completely ignoring the seal of the Chaos Community and tearing it open, allowing a small hand-written letter to fall out. The Baron carefully held the letter and began to read it out loud.

"' _To the Black Baron, member of the Nightlight Lords and Neutral Agent of Chaos,'_ " The Baron read. "' _You have been selected for a high-priority Class-B3 mission on behalf of the Four Sects of the IDA."_ ' He took his eyes off the paper, a bit surprised. "Hot damn, they picked me for a Class-B mission? That's the kinda shit they offer to teams and top ranking Agents." He resumed his reading. " _You were chosen for being best suited in this area of expertise, and will be a vital asset to the whole operation. Payment will be made in half, 40% up front after the briefing and the remaining 60% upon completion. Payment itself will be exactly…_ " He trailed off, counting the number of zeroes the payment entailed. "HOLY HELL! With that kinda bread, Ah could buy half of Altambra with that kinda bread!" Even Mathilda looked surprised, gesturing for the Baron to continue reading. " _Report to Zedekiah Strong's Office in Central Base Prime immediately for further briefing and partial payment. And DON'T be late. Sincerely, Sam Zeal, Agent of Dimensions._ " The two bounty hunters sat in relative silence, gaping at the letter. Class-B missions were among the more dangerous missions that the IDA sent their Agents on, usually limited to their top-rank teams and Agents alone, and often relate to matters pertaining to the other Universal Powers. Granted the higher the risk meant the higher pay. And given the dump the Baron and Mathilda were living in, the high pay was worth the high risk.

* * *

People were surprised when they got up in the morning to see a metal door get kicked down and sent flying several feet away, nearly crushing a guy in the process. The Baron popped out of the doorway, wincing as a group of people helped lift the door off the semi-innocent bystander.

"Sorry 'bout that, Francis!" The Baron shouted, the crushed man flipping him off in response. "Babe, let's grab a ride and haul ass!" The Baron took off, Mathilda jogging behind as she carried her metal bat in one hand. Casual walkers were either shoved or dove out of the way as the muscular and frantic Black Baron charged through the crowds, while Mathilda cautiously dodged between those still in the way. The Baron had no time to regard others in his way, especially if a paycheck was on the line! The duo finally arrived at one of the IDA's various transport stops, with none other than Don Weaso waiting at the stop.

"Ah, good morning, Baron." Don Weaso regarded, giving his cigar a little wave. "What has you so pent up, right now?"

"Just got a Class-B3 job from the bigwigs in Central Base Prime!" The Baron proclaimed, checking the schedule. "Whole lot of green to buy even more green, Don."

"So that's what the letter was about, eh?" The weasel mobster remarked. "Well, I hate to be the courier of unfortunate information, but the last transport to Central Base Prime just passed by five minutes ago." Don Weaso flinched as the Baron punched a sign in anger, the aforementioned object now bent at a 45 degree angle. "Look, if you want to get to Central Base Prime, try hitching rides. The DJs do it all the time." A black car pulled up in front of the stop, allowing Don Weaso to board. "Best of luck to you, Baron." As the vehicle drove down the street, the Baron and Mathilda began trying to flag rides down to little degrees of success.

"C'mon, help a playa out!" The Baron shouted, waving down any vehicles that passed them. "Baby, put those looks of yours to good use and score us a ride!" Mathilda rolled her eyes, stepping out onto the curb and extending one of her legs. Almost instantly, a purple SUV came to a halt, the black tinted windows rolling down to reveal a man with slicked back black hair, sporting several scars on his face, wearing a purple suit, and featuring a purple Fleur Dis Lis on the side of his neck.

"Hello gorgeous." The man said, waggling his eyebrows. "Need a lift?"

"MOVE OVER!" The Baron shouted, shoving the driver into the other seat and climbing into the car. Once Mathilda seated herself in the back, the Baron slammed his foot on the gas pedal and tore down the road. The purple SUV served between various cars and other vehicles, causing an incredible amount of property damage, while inside Mathilda and the former driver jostled about in their seats as the Baron drove rampantly.

"Huh, so this is what it's like to be carjacked." The passenger said. "Not as fun as I expected it to be."

"You sound like a regular criminal, eh?" The Baron quipped, turning the car to avoid crashing into a large beer truck. "That make you, what, a Chaos Agent or somethin'?"

"Hell yeah, I'm a Chaos Agent, pal." The passenger said with a chuckle. "One of the best in the whole Chaos Company. Watch the dump truck." The Baron made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding the oncoming traffic and turning onto the Urbania highway.

"That fact or are ya just blastin' a shitload of hot air?" The Baron asked. Mathilda leaned over the seat and tapped the muscular black man on the shoulder.

"He's the Boss of the 3rd Street Saints," Mathilda softly said. "And on the Council of 10 Chaos." The Baron slowly turned his head to the man he just carjacked, taking note of the abundance of purple and the Fleur tattoo. "The tattoo should have been a dead ringer."

" _You're_ the Boss?" The Baron asked. The passenger, now known as the Boss, gave a casual smirk and flashed a thumbs up. "Shit! Ah didn't know y'all were at Bourbon Street! The Saints always throw the best ragers!" The two began laughing hard, while Mathilda kept looking out the window, watching as various vehicles whizzed and flew by. "Say, Zimos ain't still pissy that Ah whupped his ass and got the Nightlight Lord seat fo' Pimpin', is he?"

"Zimos? Nah, he's over it." The Boss said, reaching into his glove compartment. "You'd be surprised how much drinking and fucking can cheer a man up." He produced a neon blue cigarette box. "Here, I pinched these off Pierce a few days ago. He got the self-lighting cigs that those UNSC guys get on shore leave." The Baron took a cigarette, while the Boss took his own, and the instant it touched his lips, the cigarette lit and the Baron was in ecstasy.

"Damn, those UNSC bitches got the good stuff," The Baron said, taking a puff. "But they is so uptight, y'all could shove a lump of coal up there and get a diamond in five seconds!" The two continued laughing and chatting away as the car zipped down the highway towards a massive futuristic metropolis that could only be Central Base Prime.

"So what brings you to CBP, Baron?" The Boss asked.

"Got a Class-B3 job from the higher ups." The Baron explained. "No way in hell am Ah gonna give up the shitload of cheddar they're offering."

"B3? You got a B3 job, too?" The Boss asked. He reached into his suit, pulling out an opened letter of striking similarity to the one the Baron received. "Looks like we might be partners on this one, big guy!"

"Normally, the Baron don't play well with others," The Baron said. "But y'all know how to party." Before the conversation could continue any further, the car was suddenly slammed harshly in the side, rocking the passengers and driver within. "What the hell?!" The Boss and Mathilda looked out the window and saw a long pink corvette driving alongside them, driven by two irate looking girls. The driver was a blonde-haired girl with blue eyes, wearing a skimpy red dress and sporting the nastiest look in her eyes. Her passenger was a dark-haired girl sporting a pink streak, dressed in a gothic dress, holding a strange-looking cat doll and licking an ice cream cone. The Boss furrowed his brow, sticking his head out the window.

"Watch where you're fucking driving!" The Boss called out.

"You watch it, ya purple prick!" The blonde driver shouted, flipping the Boss off. "My sister and I got an appointment at Zedekiah's Office and I sure as hell ain't gonna be late!" The corvette sped down the highway, tearing up traffic even more than the Baron's previous rampage.

"Yo, was that Panty Anarchy I just heard? That slutty angel?" The Baron asked, recognizing both the voice and the car. Mathilda confirmed with a silent, if a bit morose nod. "Motha fucka! The Anarchy Sisters just fuckin' cut me off!"

"Anarchy Sisters…" The Boss mused. "Aren't they those two angel sisters who were kicked out of heaven for being so despicable and lewd?"

"They also are top Order Agents and some of the biggest bitches in the entire Agency!" The Baron remarked. "Every fuckin' time Panty and her goth sister, Stocking, show up at Bourbon Street, they drink the whole place dry and then get it all wet again in ways NOT appropriate for daytime television." There was a pregnant silence for a moment, the Boss cautiously raising a finger to ask what the Baron meant, but he answered anyway. "They have sex with anything that moves. Or at least the blonde bitch does."

"If they're heading to Zedekiah's office just like us…" The Boss muttered. "Hey, Baron, you ever participate in a street race before?"

"I dunno, Boss," The Baron chuckled, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Is Altambra the biggest shithole in the Wastes?"

"I have no fucking clue what that is so I'm taking it as a yes." The Boss said. "Floor it!" Engines roars and tires screeched as the Baron slammed his foot on the accelerator, shooting down the highway after the Anarchy Sisters. They rapidly encroached the speeding pink car, while the Boss simply fiddled with the radio. "And now, for something fitting." A rapid, fast paced song began playing on the radio, one that the Baron knew very well.

"Y'all a man o' fine taste, Saint." The Baron chuckled, bobbing his head along with the music. They pulled alongside the pink car, with the Baron getting a good look at the Anarchy Sisters speeding by. He rolled down the window, cranked up the music at eleven, and did the best thing he could: jam.

 _'Time for some action,_

 _Can't get no satisfaction,_

 _Until my steel toe crashes,_

 _Head on collision? What's happening?'_ The Baron swung the wheel around, slamming into the side of the car, earning a nasty look from the two angels.

' _Fist swinging, face mashing,_

 _No need for the caption,_

 _And you better not interrupt,_

 _When the titans are clashing!_ ' He ducked his head when a bullet shot past him, with Panty Anarchy clutching a glowing blue and white gun aimed at his head.

 _'DJ bring that beat,'_ The Boss reached into the glove compartment and tossed a green submachine gun to Mathilda, popping the sunroof of the car. The scantily clad bounty huntress started peppering the pink car with live ammo, while Panty did the same.

 _'So I can bust slang from the street,_

 _Bang with the heat, semi auto,_

 _I'd like to see you dodge these hollows,_

 _I throw. Too much beef to swallow!'_ The other Anarchy Sister, Stocking, clutched a pair of blue and white swords, swinging the blades around to deflect Mathilda's bullets.

 _'Can't keep up with me to follow,_

 _Sound check is over,_

 _Show's just begun,_

 _Trying to escape makes it worse,_

 _Don't run!'_ The two cars blasted up the ramp, taking off into the air as they soared high above traffic itself, the drivers ignoring the sudden airborne situation while the passengers reacted with either fear or excitement (the latter being the Boss). The cars came to a near perfect landing, while other vehicles careened out of the way of the impromptu street race. The excitement was so high, even the Boss was getting roped into the singing.

' _Just bring the beat to the show,_

 _And watch them tear up the floor!_

 _It's gotten out of control,_

 _There is nowhere to go!_

 _You're moving too slow,_

 _And it's about to explode!_ ' Almost on cue, a car flipped over and burst into flames, just another obstacle for the two warring cars to get around. Both the Baron and Panty succeed in swerving around the wreckage, only to resume the fighting.

' _So if you're ready to roll,_

 _'Then baby here we go!'_ The Baron rammed the car into his pink opponent, squeezing it and the two girls against a large military truck bearing a Dahl logo, sparks flying on all sides.

' _I got you right where I want you!_

 _There is nowhere to run to,_

 _This ain't nothing like Kung Fu!_

 _More like watch what the gun do,_

 _Let the poppers pop shots,_

 _And the breakers break jaws!_

 _They don't box they brawl,_

 _They don't make beats they make war!'_ Now the tables had turned, with the Anarchy Sisters pushing back on the Baron's ride, pressing him against a Duff Truck dangerously close to bursting. The Baron flashed a golden smile, breaking free and finally pushing ahead of the pink vehicle.

 _'Got kicks and snares for you,_

 _We take it there for you,_

 _Heard what I said?_

 _Snatch your dreads,_

 _Out your head, oh yeah!_

 _So you can dance around,_

 _You won't last a round,_

 _I'm finna act a clown,_

 _You don't know?_

 _You better ask around…'_ Finally, the Baron made his last move once he pulled just far enough ahead of the pink car… and made a very hard right turn. The act alone flipped the car over, engaging in a huge tumble, and taking the Anarchy Sisters with it. Soon enough, the two cars were tangled up in a ball of purple and pink flaming metal, with a total of four people screaming their heads off and one more laughing his ass off. The two hunks of metal and plastic flew above several oncoming vehicles, bouncing along the steel and concrete roads, off the highway altogether, across several buildings, over a multitude of bystanders, before finally coming to a rest in a parking lot outside a massive dome-shaped building. Yet no one seemed bothered in the slightest by it. The two angels clambered out of their smoking wreck of a car, the Baron and Mathilda pulled each other out of the purple mess, while the Boss simply jumped out the open window and cheered at the top of his lungs.

"Best street race ever!" The Boss exclaimed, leaping out of the car. "Man, Baron, you really know how to throw down!" The Baron chuckled as Mathilda pulled the muscular black man to his feet.

"Heh, that's how we party in Altambra, baby." The Baron said. "Sorry about the-." Before the Baron could continue his thoughts, the car exploded in a shower of flaming metal and purple scrap. "Car." The Boss stared at the smoldering heap, then waved his hand dismissively as he blew a raspberry.

"Eh, I blow up my own shit all the time." The Boss scoffed. "Perks with being the emperor of my own empire." He turned around, gesturing to the domed building before them. "And look, we ended up at the Upper Council building, where Zedekiah's office is. It's a win-win." The Baron and Mathilda followed the Boss' gaze and saw the building in greater detail. To say it was huge was an understatement, appearing roughly the size of eight city blocks and standing at least thirty stories high, the Upper Council Building shone bright as silver as it glinted off the artificial sun, the futuristic panels detailed with red, blue, black, and white designs, displaying the IDA's ideology of balancing everything, and of course, the massive golden spire at the top of the entire thing, where the Head of the IDA himself oversees all.

"Damn, Ah can never get used to seein' that every time." The Baron mused. "Hard to believe only _one_ man made that thing millions of years ago."

"Well, when the one man just so happens to be a godlike entity with limitless power," The Boss said, standing next to the Baron. "The sky ain't exactly the limit." Gunshots rang out across the courtyard, startling several people as a pair of incredibly pissed young women walked away from their wrecked car.

"You fucking piece of shits are going to get your fucking dicks slit!" Panty Anarchy screamed, clutching her pistol while Stocking followed her, the sister wielding her swords tightly. "Look what you did to See-Through!" The pointed to the mangled heap of pink metal that was once the Anarchy Sister's car. The Baron glared down at the two girls, looking just as angry and menacing.

"Y'all had that comin' after ya tried to run the Black Baron off the road!" The Baron exclaimed defensively. "Nobody cuts off the Black Motha' Fuckin' Baron!" Panty stood on her toes, getting right in the Baron's face, peering into his shades with big angry blue eyes.

"We were running late for a meeting with the head honcho, Zedekiah!" Panty shouted. "And it's your own damn fault for being in the way with that ugly purple jeep of yours!" Now it was the Boss' turn to get upset, storming over to the arguing pair and shoving himself in front of the Baron.

"Hey, you don't dis my car, you stuck up skank!" The Boss shouted, pressing a finger against Panty's forehead. "If anything, my car looks a helluva lot better than that pink piece of crap you call a corvette!" The Boss felt a tremendous weight bear down on his shoulder, seeing a golden glove on his person.

"Don't step between the Baron and a bitch, man!" The Baron shouted. Soon, the three incredibly irritated idiots started arguing amongst themselves, each swearing their heads off and trying to pin blame on each other, all while Mathilda and Stocking looked on in disinterest and slight embarrassment.

"This kinda thing happens to us way too often." Stocking said, putting her swords away and resuming to deal with her ice cream. Mathilda simply nodded in response. At the same time, a young teen with dark red hair dressed in unusual getup rolled in on a pair of bright yellow roller-blades towards the Upper Council building. He had a pair of large grey headphones on his ears, a set of thick green-lens goggles stylized with brown zigzags, wore a yellow t-shirt with the Japanese word 'Beat' stylized in orange font, black fingerless gloves, and baggy gray jeans. To boot, he had several cans of spray paint fastened to his belt and seemed to be blasting a loud radio channel. He oversaw the three people arguing, so he decided to investigate by gliding over to the two ladies standing nearby. He skid to a halt next the two, turned the volume down on his headset, and greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, what's going on?" The kid asked. Mathilda and Stocking saw the kid standing there, and Mathilda's facial expression actually changed to frightened.

"Beat?!" Mathilda asked. "Why are you here?" Before the kid, Beat, could answer, Mathilda moved to push him aside. "Never mind! Get out of here before the Baron sees you!"

"But I've got a meeting at Base Prime for the GGs," Beat objected. "And why would it be bad if your boss saw me?" Mathilda whirled the boy around and looked him dead into the goggles.

"June 23rd." Mathilda said. Beat didn't respond. "You and the GGs decided to take your spray paint artwork to Bourbon Street." No response. "You spray painted all over DJ PON-3's club and tagged the Baron's car."

"We sprayed a lot of people that day." Beat offhandedly said. "Literally, actually. I remember…"

* * *

 _MOMENTARY FLASHBACK_

Beat sped down the streets of Urbania, a smile on his face, music in his ears, and at least twenty loaded spray cans on his person. He and the GGs had graced Base Prime with their expressive art again and again, leaving people shocked, surprised, and for some reason incredibly furious. Beat took it as people just being too uptight, and lo and behold, he found the most uptight target on his list: mister tall, dark, ominous and evil himself, the Overlord. That massive menace of malice had been nothing but a cloud of dark mood-killer for a long time, and now it was Beat's mission to get that cloud some color. He saw the black armored Overlord standing back turned, staring at a window displaying a bunch of medieval weapons, with his old Minion Gnarl at his side. Perfect shot. Once Beat was in range, he grabbed two cans from his belt, prepped and ready, hopped on a rail, and grind his way to the Overlord. From just a foot away, Beat had the perfect shot, and with a few quick flourishes made his mark. Gnarl turned around after hearing the odd noise, and noticed something off about the Overlord's back.

"Um… Sire?" Gnarl asked. The Overlord turned to his aid, who in turn pointed at the Overlord's back. The Overlord rounded about to position his back at the window to get a better look at the new addition to his armor: a smiley face with green goggles, complete with a sprayed on words of 'cheer up' printed down below. You could hear the screams from miles away.

 _FLASHBACK OVER!_

* * *

"Remember what?" Stocking asked, while Beat stared off into wonderland. Beat shook his head, blinking out of his daydream from his past accomplishments. "You said 'I remember' then dozed off into your own little fuckin' mind."

"Exposition bits what can you do?" Beat said, ignoring the looks he was receiving from Stocking and Mathilda. Panty, the Boss, and the Baron kept on arguing, but when the Baron shifted his gaze a bit to see if Mathilda was watching him school the two idiots he smacked down, he saw the yellow shirt and green goggles and suddenly everything went red.

"HEY!" The Baron shouted, jabbing a finger at Beat. "You're that punk that leads the GGs!" Panty and the Boss ceased their bickering and saw the kid as well, looking equally irritated. "You shits fucked up Bourbon Street _and_ my car!" A bead of sweat ran down Beat's head.

"The GGs…" The Boss said, furrowing his brow. "Hey, you and your gang of vandals keep on covering up our tags in Hunter's Gambit! We spend hours doing that shit!" Beat tugged nervously at his shirt collar, hoping to make an exit before things could get any worse.

"Yeah, you're the guys who sprayed that dragon riding a skateboard on the Cathedral's door." Panty said, not entirely annoyed, but still slightly peeved. "I thought it was fuckin' cool looking, but hearing Garterbelt and Father Anderson bitchin' and moanin' about was hard on my hangover. Not cool, dipshit." Panty turned to the two equally irritated men with a look of apathy and determination. "Truce?"

"Truce." The Boss and the Baron said, the former cocking back a silver pistol while the latter cracked his knuckles. And the only exit was gone. Beat slowly began backing away as three incredibly angry and dangerously armed IDA Agents crowded around him. This was not going to be an easy escape.

"N-n-now look fellas, lady," Beat nervously said, steadily skating backwards. "I'm just doing my duty as a Good Chaos Agent, spreading creativity and freedom to the masses to overthrow a corrupt system! The GGs mean well, honest!" His only response were a set of collective growls. "Right, you're mad, I get it." In the distance, a fanfare could be heard slowly making its way towards them. An out, bingo! "Which is why I think you should take it easy and – HEY LOOK A PARADE!" Right on que, the three turned around towards the source of the sound, allowing Beat to make a beeline for the Upper Council building. Off in the distance, several men dressed in white, carrying tall purple flags displaying an elegantly designed bird, steadily made their way to the entrance of the building. These men were playing trumpets, tossing rose petals on the ground, and several were chanting a loud and cheerful praise.

" _Please make way!"_ They chanted, smiles wide on their faces. " _Please make way!_ _Zhang He has arrived today!_ " As they continued their chants, a long purple carpet rolled out, and strutting along it was (in the Baron's eyes) possibly the strangest looking man ever seen. He wore a white and purple oriental suit, lined with golden silk and trimmed almost perfectly, golden shoulder pads and wrist guards rested daintily, a silken purple belt looped around his body, his black hair was done up in a single long ponytail held up by a small golden crown, and he sported the most splendid look on his face as he literally danced along the carpet. If anyone could properly describe this magnificent man in one word, it would be 'fabulous'. The Baron leaned over to Mathilda as the dancing man and his precession made its way towards them.

"Man, lookit that fruitcake over there." The Baron whispered, earning a chuckle from the scantily clad woman. "All prancy and shit."

"Sh-sh-shut the hell up!" The Boss harshly whispered in return. "You do know that's Zhang He, right?" Both Panty and Stocking shot disbelieving glares at the Saint leader.

"Well duh," Panty said, folding her arms. "Those flag totting guys only just keep chanting his name every twelve seconds." The Boss felt his eye twitch as he leaned over to the two angels.

"Aside from the obvious stating," The Boss growled. "Zhang He is among one of the strongest solo Agents in the IDA. Do you seriously NOT recognize the giant bird on the flags or the Chinese name?" No one said a word, either out of carelessness or cluelessness. "GAH! He's a Dynasty Warrior!" That got everyone's attention fast, with Stocking nearly dropping her ice cream in surprise.

"No fucking way!" The Baron shouted. " _That_ guy puttin' on moves like it's tryouts at Swan Lake is a Dynasty Warrior? One of those super-powered guys who can kill thousands of people without so much as a scratch?!"

"Oh, indeed so," Said a lilting, almost feminine voice. Everyone jumped when they saw the dancing man and his precession had suddenly stood before him. What was even more off putting was that the man was standing on one foot like a ballerina. "While those silly little rumors do contain a tinge of fact," And now he's dancing as graceful as a butterfly. Perfect. "They are very much exaggerated. Hm hmm hm." He presented himself before the gathered group and gave an elegant bow. "I am Zhang He, general of the Kingdoms of Wei and Jin, Dynasty Warrior and Agent of Order for the IDA. A delightful pleasure." Nobody could believe what they had just seen, especially with all the dancing. The Boss rubbed his eyes to get the disbelief out, Panty and Stocking were frozen in place from confusion, Mathilda looked neutral as ever, and the Baron was trying his damnedest to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Man, did ya know auditions for 'The Producers' ended years ago?" The Baron snickered. "Because that kinda shit is so fruity ya could make a perfume outta it!" The Wei precession dropped their jaws as the Baron burst into laughter, mocking an incredibly powerful and dangerous man. Zhang He only looked at the boorish Baron with disinterest, but decided to do nothing.

"Well, not everyone apparently has a taste for beauty and grace such as I." Zhang He said with a slight huff. "Now if you would excuse me, I received a summons from Lord Zedekiah regarding a Class-B3 mission, and it would be most improper to be late." And so, the precession continued onwards, Zhang He dancing all the way. It took a moment for everyone to let everything set in. They all turned to the massive clock tower off in the distance, saw the time, and had a single reaction.

"WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!" They all screamed. All at once, the five invited people bolted towards the door to the Upper Council building, inadvertently trampling the Wei guards and sweeping Zhang He off with them. They sped through the white walled halls, knocking over Councilors and petitioners alike to reach the elevator, including adding an addled Beat into the mix. They all immediately piled in and mashed the button to the top of the building. Together they stood inside a cramped red elevator, listening to a simple short track over and over again for several long minutes. When the bell rang once they reached the top, everyone was so eager to get out of the cramped space that they shoved each other out of the way and collapsed atop each other in a pile. Groaning from the sores, they all tried to move up, unaware of the shadow now looming over them: a Watcher.

"You're all fifteen minutes late." The Watcher said, a bemused look on his slightly obscured face. "Well, c'mon, get up." One by one, he helped the Agents onto their feet, only Zhang He and Beat actually offering any thanks. Once everyone was presentable (to an extent), the Watcher produced a clipboard and a pencil. "Alright, roll-call! Zhang He?"

"Present and pleased to have been requested." Zhang He said with a bow. Everyone rolled their eyes (while the Baron stifled another laugh).

"Good for you." The Watcher said, marking the list. "Representative of the GGs?"

"Here, man." Beat said, shirking from the glares he was receiving from his past offenses.

"Panty and Stocking Anarchy?" The Watcher continued.

"Can we get this over with?" Panty complained while Stocking simply chewed on a candy bar. "'Cuz I've got a bitch of a hangover to deal with and Garterbelt's yapping ain't helping." Watcher grunted, continuing his work.

"Representative of the 3rd Street Saints?" The Watcher asked.

"That's _Emperor of the Saint Empire_ , Watcher." The Boss said with a smirk.

"Oh of course, Emperor Saint." The Watcher sarcastically said. "The Black Baron?"

"Ya got eyes?" The Baron snidely said. "Because if y'all moved that hood o' yours, ya'd see Ah'm fuckin' here!" He blinked for a moment, looking closer at the Watcher. "Actually, do any of ya Watchers even _have_ eyes? None of y'all actually seem to do." In response, the Watcher lightly bonked the Baron on the head with the clipboard.

"Trade secret, Baron." The Watcher said, walking towards the massive steel doors in front of them. Slowly, the Watcher opened the door into a dark room inside, gesturing for everyone to enter. "Zedekiah Strong will see you for the *snrk* briefing." One by one, they all reluctantly entered the dark room, ready to meet with the most important man in the entire Inter-Dimensional Agency. Once inside, everyone was met with an awestruck sight: the incredible interior of the room. Like the building proper, the office was a dome-like structure, with a black roof in the image of an expansive star map of various galaxies, solar systems, black holes, and of course, universes, all shining a variety of light and swirled. Down below, the walls were lined with entirely with bookshelves, each filled to the brim with untold knowledge from all universes, either good or bad. Statues and trophies dotted the floors, some kept in glass cases while others stood larger than life itself. At the very center of the room was an ornately designed mahogany wooden desk, featuring a large open book, a set of Newton's Cradle, emblazoned with the IDA's signature medallion, and a large red velvet chair. But by far, the most important thing in the room itself was who sat in the chair itself. Resting himself in the chair was a man wearing a black suit and tie, a wide-brimmed black hat, an eyepatch over his left eye, sporting a full-black beard, and bearing a tired yet peaceful smile. This was the man everyone in the IDA knew, respected, and even feared in some cases. The founder of the IDA itself: Zedekiah Strong, the Judge of Universes.

Zedekiah looked up from his desk and saw his chosen few have arrived. "Ah, the Agents of the hour have finally made it." Zedekiah happily said, his voice carrying a faint English accent. "I'm glad you received my messages in time." Zedekiah rose from his seat to properly greet everyone… yet everyone was more concerned with the fact he wasn't wearing any pants, displaying a pair of blue boxers to everyone present. The looks on everyone's faces could be summed up as 'confused'. "Something wrong?"

"Um… Zeke?" The Boss said, trying to process why a man with near infinite power was standing underdressed before his own Agents. "Why are you not wearing pants?" Zedekiah paused for a moment, looked down at his pant-less legs, and returned his neutral gaze to the Agents.

"They're not there, what of it?" Zedekiah responded. No one was sure how to properly answer this question. It was common knowledge that the leaders of the strongest universal powers were a bit quirky and eccentric at times… but this was just weird. "I chose to not wear pants for this meeting, because being prude at times and allowing myself and others to express our sexuality is a natural thing!" Zedekiah stood atop his desk, displaying himself to everyone with pride. "To be open to perversion is key to stability as a people and survival!"

"Ah really hope he doesn't take his underwear off for whatever point he's making." The Baron whispered to Mathilda.

"While some people can't handle a dirty joke," Zedekiah rambled, raising his voice to booming levels. "It is essential to know these jokes and sexual acts in order to procreate and live in a balanced existence where naughty and nice can co-exist! It's when people try to stifle it is when the balance is thrown out of proportion!" He hopped down from his desk, looking at his selected agents with a stern and serious gaze. "Which is why you are here."

"Oh, so there _is_ a reason you called us in aside from showing us your junk." Panty said, idly picking her nose. "Impressive, by the way, but I've probably seen better…" Zedekiah turned around and walked up to his desk.

"Ignoring that, Miss Anarchy," Zedekiah said, pressing a few buttons on a keypad located on the top of his desk. One of the stars on the roof projected a large image of a holographic universe before everyone, lighting up the whole room. "This is Universe SH1M-0N-3TT4, a Universe that lacks Trans-Universal transport and communication and happens to be in dire circumstances." Zedekiah brought his hand to the projection, zooming in on a galaxy until bringing up the image of Earth, freezing it on a display of the country of Japan. "This is an Alternate Earth where the country of Japan has achieved the highest morals and cleanest public record. How is this, you may ask?" Zedekiah tapped on the image of Japan, bringing up camera feed of a Japanese city, with everyone milling about their average day. The only odd thing was that everyone seemed to be wearing a metal collar around their neck.

"What's with the fancy chokers on everyone?" The Boss asked.

"Those 'chokers' are Peace Makers," Zedekiah explained. "Devices on the neck and wrists that can connect to the internet, contact people from long distances through voice or text, search for locations and people on a whim, and a few other neat little doo-dads."

"Sounds like really advanced smartphones." The Boss responded.

"Yes, only these smart phones can be monitored by the government and will have you arrested and deported to work camps for swearing or making sexual gestures." Zedekiah abruptly said, causing everyone's jaws to drop. "That's right. In this reality, Japan has illegalized anything involving sexual and perverse actions." Everyone let off a frightened gasp. "No stores selling adult magazines or games," Beat's eyes widened behind his goggles. "No sex toys or figures can be sold," Panty and Stocking clung to each other in fear. "Night clubs, love hotels, and sexual bars are shut down," The Boss wanted to throw up. "Scanty and gorgeous clothing has been forbidden from manufacturing," Zhang He felt like he was going to faint. "Prostitution is punishable by death," The Baron and Mathilda were disgusted. "And most shockingly of all…" No more! This was too much! "Usage of so much as a single dirty word is a one way ticket to life imprisonment." This… This was madness incarnate, the horror was so evident on everyone's faces. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a world consumed by Order."

"Consumed by Order ain't the half of it." The Baron said, rubbing his forehead. "This is like the damn FCC took over the government and is holdin' the people by a tight leash." Under his breath he muttered, "And not in the fun way."

"But why show us these garish images?" Zhang He asked, hand pressed against his breast to steady his heart. "Why us?" Zedekiah bowed his head, shifting the image to a government building. He froze the image to a man walking inside the building and zoomed in on the person. The projected image seemed normal, aside from a rather strange design on the glove the man in the image was wearing. Everyone leaned in on the projection to get the better look. The design was of a coat of arms sporting a winged sword. A symbol well known to the IDA.

"Is that guy wearin' an Order of Purity mark?" The Baron asked, recalling the news broadcast from earlier that day.

"Indeed it is." Zedekiah solemnly said. "Normally we'd leave universes without travel and communications like ours alone, but we discovered that several members of the Order of Purity are hiding amongst the government and may be influencing the usage of PMs." The leader of the IDA paced around the projection. "This is yet another direct violation of the Treaty of Three, the sole thing that is keeping us from engaging in full-on war with the Order and the Army of Abominations. I cannot stand by and let the Order think they can get away with whatever they want because they've deluded themselves into a moral crusade!" He slammed his fist on the desk, startling everyone in the room and shaking the very foundations. "Universes cannot solely be Morally Good or Orderly, as it upsets the balance of reality itself! They must be stopped before they destroy that world and themselves with it." With a flick of his wrist, Zedekiah shut off the projection and turned to address the Agents properly. "And you are the best for the job." A tinge of pride came to everyone's hearts at Zedekiah's praise, but the real question was 'why them'?

"Thanks, but why us specifically?" The Boss asked. "Wouldn't it make more sense to send a team who actually handles skirmishes with the other Universal Powers instead of us?"

"I handpicked all of you because you all have the best skillsets needed for the job." Zedekiah said with a smile. He stood before each of the Agents, addressing them one at a time. "Zhang He, while not a pervert or lawbreaker or even an Agent of Chaos like most of these people, your drive to make the world a better place by any means necessary is just the necessary gusto we need for this job." Zhang He simply bowed to his leader whilst sporting a small smile. "Beat, like Zhang He, you and the GGs are not perverts, but have a knack for disrupting the system by spreading creativity and freedom unto the masses via your art. You and your spray skills can help reeducate the citizens of this PM dominated Japan. Just don't get too carried away with naughty pictures, eh?" Zedekiah finished by clapping the young man on the shoulder. "Panty and Stocking Anarchy… You two are the most deplorable and lewd angels I've ever met in my entire lifetime, and I've lived for an eternity."

"Ah, fuck you and standards, then." Panty retorted, picking her nose.

"Yes! That's the exact kind of stand-up for yourself behavior I'm looking for!" Zedekiah cheered. "You two disobeyed the rules of heaven itself and now you kill Ghosts with weapons made from your… erm… articles of clothing. You'll be purging corruption and bringing the free spirit of perversion back to the people!" The Sisters didn't really respond, with Stocking looking like she was about to fall asleep at any moment. "The Boss of the 3rd Street Saints, once a smalltime gang and now a universal Empire of both man and alien! You specifically have done a number of deplorable things that violate public decency, including operating several prostitution rings, _participating_ in said prostitution, distribution of sexual objects, and need I mention the public streaking you seem to grace us often with?"

"I like the feeling of the wind on me." The Boss nonchalantly said. Zedekiah smirked, walking over to the last person on the list: the Baron.

"The Black Baron," Zedekiah said. "You are a pimp. One of the best the IDA has to offer since Pan himself helped me lay the foundations for Bourbon Street. You may be a bounty hunter with a foul mouth and even fouler tastes, a liar, a blaggard, a cheat, and honestly don't smell very nicely." The Baron paused to sniff his own armpit, only to recoil at his own musk. Definitely needed a bath after this. "But you also have some odd form of charisma that has all of Bourbon Street head over heels in love with you. I don't understand it, and honestly I do not care, but you can command the respect of a multitude of people with ease. Putting you as a figurehead of a naughty revolution in this world is absolutely perfect." The Baron stroked the scruff of his beard, chuckling at the praise. "I couldn't think of the more perfect people for the job." For a moment, nobody said a word. So, Zedekiah pulled out his trump card. "Need I mention the 40% of your pay up front?" Reaching onto his desk, he produced a metal briefcase and presented it before the gathered agents. He slowly undid the latch and lifted the lid, immediately blinding the agents with sheer wealth. It was greed incarnate, yet it was beautiful. "The amount has already been transferred to your accounts." He sealed the case and gave the agents a hopeful smirk. "So, do you accept for the sake of the IDA and indecency everywhere?" The six people spared a few glances at each other, speaking not with their words, but with their minds. This would be a rather difficult job to tackle, but for the sake of their livelihood and for people oppressed by censorship, it would definitely be worth it. Plus, all that money was a good incentive.

"Count me and mah baby in." The Baron said, slinging an arm over Mathilda's shoulders.

"I'll get the rest of the Saints mobilized and ready to kick some ass!" The Boss laughed, clenching one of his fists. "Been too long since I've had a good fight."

"Eh, sure, why not?" Panty said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Not like we got anything better to do." Stocking said, munching on a candy bar.

"The GGs are gonna love this!" Beat said, beaming widely. "I'll get 'em on the line and get ready to roll."

"Oh, such a wonderful chance to make another world beautiful again!" Zhang He gushed, folding his fingers under his chin. "With my lord Cao Cao's blessing, I will gladly accept this task!" The determination in the faces of these proud six agents brought a smile to Zedekiah's face. He knew he made the right decision.

"Perfect." Zedekiah said, pressing a hand against his heart. "A transport will be leaving at Gate AE-S in two hours. Gather your forces and meet one of the Watchers there." He brought his hand to his head in salute, to which everyone (aside from Panty and Stocking) returned. "And remember: The Fate of One is the Fate of All!"

"YES SIR!" The Agents shouted. The doors opened once more and the agents rushed out to handle their newest mission. Once everyone had left, the Watcher entered the room, seeing Zedekiah on full display sporting a smile on his face.

"Do you think they can handle it, sir?" The Watcher asked. Zedekiah only chuckled in response.

"Sure as shit, my old friend." Zedekiah simply said. "They'll strike a perfect blow for us."

"Sir, please put some pants on." The Watcher objected, cringing slightly.

"Bite me."

 _Author's Note: This took WAY longer than it expected. Well, the premise is set up, the cast is properly introduced, and next we get to the story proper. So, SOURCE LIST! The Boss is from the video game series_ 'Saint's Row' _. Panty and Stocking Anarchy are from the anime show_ 'Panty  & Stocking with Garterbelt' _. Beat is from the video game_ 'Jet Set Radio _'. Zhang He (while based on an actual historical figure in Chinese history) is from the video game series_ 'Dynasty Warriors' _. The soon to be destined universe is from the anime_ 'Shimoneta: A World Where the Concept of Dirty Jokes Doesn't Exist'. _For more information on Zedekiah Strong and the Watcher, please consult '_ The Guide to the Multiverse' _. Also, new song format! I know, weird right?_

 _~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask_


	3. Chapter 2: Rock it On!

**Chapter Two: Rock it On!**

As the recently assigned Agents left the office of Zedekiah Strong, they quickly dispersed to prepare for the oncoming mission via whatever resources and allies they can get their hands on. The Boss called in a taxi, thanks to the Baron blowing up his Jeep, and drove off towards the Saint Headquarters in Urbania. For those of you not in the know, the Saint Empire (formerly known as the 3rd Street Saints) are one of the largest forces in the IDA's ranks, due in part with the Saints dominating most of their own universe with a mix of man and the recently annexed alien race of the Zin. It's as such that Saint Headquarters would be considered a gigantic landmark. Consisting of a total of 90 acres of land, a total of 156 small buildings and houses, 47 factories and manufacturing plants (producing cars, munitions, and even a few items of ill-repute with aid of the Ultor Corporation), and five skyscrapers, four at a total of 40 stories and the prime tower at fifty stories. Add on a shade of purple and gold to everything, and you get the Saint Headquarters. The Boss drove along the black streets, waving to any Saints bearing the purple fleur dis lee (who waved in response), even giving a few idle waves to the muscular pale alien Zin outfitted in purple sashes, before finally pulling up at the largest skyscraper of the bunch, a tall purple and gold building decorated with the fleur and catering to over a thousand Saints a day. The Purple Crib. The Boss thanked the driver, gave him a tip, and waltzed inside the lobby. The lobby of the Purple Crib was gigantic, gold and black tiled floors, banners of Saint Fleurs hung about the walls, and Saints wandering about without little reason. At the very center of the room was a gangly looking Zin, wearing a formal version of his armor with a pair of purple sashes across his chests. The alien smiled, walking up to the Boss with a small grin.

"Ah, Emperor Saint, sir," The Zin greeted. "It is good to see you returned from the meeting at Central Base Prime." The Boss patted the Zin on the shoulder as he walked by.

"Got good news for the crew, Zinjai." The Boss said, walking up to the express elevator with the Zin Steward in tow. "They all waiting in the Penthouse?"

"Yes sire," Zinjai happily said with a bow, joining the Boss in the golden-walled elevator as he mashed the button to the top. "Mr. Washington and Mr. Gat have gathered most of your lieutenants, but I'm afraid Mr. Kirrlov, Ms. Odekar, Mr. King, and Mr. David unfortunately had to step out. Mr. King said it involved negotiations with the Corporate Presidents and adding Ultor in their ranks."

"Pfft, yeah, Dane Vogul's been bearing down our necks to get him to play nice with those Corporate pricks," The Boss muttered as the elevator ascended. "Why anyone would want to put up with stuck-up tightwads like the Corporate Presidents is beyond me. Especially if they're like Not-So-Handsome Jack, those snack-food aliens, and Mommy Dearest." The elevator came to a stop with a soft ding. "Showtime." The Boss opened the doors to the penthouse room, a massive office decorated with golden statues of various Saints of the past, including a few of the Boss himself in his Zin-Tech Power Armor, larger than life pictures of past victories, purple velour and velvet furniture, and stripper poles… lots of stripper poles. Gathered around fancy desk towards the back of the room were five men and women all gathered round, each doing his or her own thing. First was a young woman with red hair, dressed in a grey hoodie with purple highlights, idly tapping away at her laptop as she sat bowlegged on a red beanbag chair. Next was a man with black, messy hair, wearing a black jacket with bright purple accents, sitting in a chair and reading a comic book of a popular TV show about a vampire who kicks ass and takes names. Leaning against a pillar was a vaguely Asian man, sporting a black crew-cut hair, blue sunglasses, a purple jacket atop a white undershirt and ragged blue jeans, idly sharpening a knife against a whetstone. Lastly, standing by the desk were two ebony skinned people, a man and a woman, the man wearing a white suit and grey fedora and the woman wearing black pants and a black jacket exposing a purple undershirt while her hair was kept in a bun and dreadlocks. These were the big heads of the Saint crew.

"The Boss is back, everybody!" The Boss greeted, the rest of the Saints giving a few half-hearted greetings. One by one, the Boss passed by each of the members of the Saints, casually saying his hellos. "Hey Kinzie, keeping up on the latest web news?" The red haired woman didn't even bother looking up from her computer.

"Nope, hacking into Dahl stocks just for kicks." Kinzie said.

"Right, have fun with that." The Boss said, snatching the comic from the black-haired young man. "Oh, this a new NightBlade issue, Matt?" Matt angrily rose from his seat and snatched the comic back.

"Yes, and I'd be thankful if you didn't tear it up." Matt grumbled, his British accent doing very little to hide his irritation. "Still, pretty happy to have found that universe where NightBlade was a comic series instead of a TV show. Parallels are great."

"That was also the universe where Phillipe Loren wasn't killed and teamed up with Zinyak for universal domination, so shut it." The Boss snapped, passing by the man sharpening his knife, raising his hand for a high-five. "'Sup Johnny?"

"Nothin' much, Boss." Johnny casually said, returning the high five. "Order on surplus knives got backed up, by the way. I had a talk with the customer service guy."

"He walking with a limp now or missing a limb?" The Boss joked, patting Johnny on the shoulder before finally coming to his desk, resting himself in his chair and kicking his feet up. "Pierce, Shaundi, I got big news for everyone." Pierce and Shaundi called everyone together, the Saint Lieutenants all gathered around the Boss' desk as they awaited his word. "Alright, I got a _big_ job for all of us. REALLY big!"

"Well, don't keep us waiting." Pierce exclaimed. "Let us in on the score!" The Boss beamed, and spend the next couple of minutes explaining their new mission involving bringing perversion back to the people and taking the fight to those stuck up Order of Purity members. For the most part, everyone seemed indifferent about the whole thing, a job is a job after all, no matter how bizarre. That is, until the Boss mentioned they'd be working alongside other Agents.

"Yeah, who _are_ we going to be partnering up with?" Shaundi asked, noting that the Boss had mentioned the Agents themselves. The Boss reclined in his chair and simply slid his sunglasses onto his eyes.

"Eh, most of 'em are all right in my book." The Boss said. "Like the Black Baron, Zhang He," He took a moment to register the surprise that they'd be working with a Dynasty Warrior of all people. "Yeah, I thought the same, too. Anyway, we've also got the Anarchy Sisters (who owe me a new car, for the record), and…" He groaned, putting a hand to his forehead in preparation for the oncoming headache. "The GGs." Then everyone started shouting complaints about the street punks vandalizing pretty much anything that could be considered 'spray-paint-able'.

"They messed up my car!" Pierce shouted. "Three times! On FIVE different cars!"

"They ruined my limited edition copy of 'NightBlade Unlimited' during one of their spray-days!" Matt complained. "I waited WEEKS in front of that comic book store to get one!"

"One of their gang tripped up a power cord at the Power Plant and shut off most of Urbania's power supply." Kinzie noted. "That happened while I was trying to funnel money from the Torgue account into our own stocks." The Boss quickly grew tired of the Saints complaining, and instead of being a rational person and shushing everyone normally, the Boss pulled out a 9mm pistol from his desk and fired a few rounds into the ceiling. That shut everyone up pretty quick. With order restored, the Boss holstered the gun and sat back down at his desk.

"Look, I know we all don't like the GGs at this moment," The Boss clarified. "Heck, I was _this_ close," He pressed two fingers together for emphasis. "To beating the shit out of their goggle-wearing leader, but the point is Zedekiah wants all of us to work together," He leaned on his desk, glaring at the others through his thick lensed sunglasses. "And if I wanna keep my seat on the Chaos Council, I don't want to piss off the big man in charge. So," He leaned back on the chair, clapping his hands together. "Here's what we're going to do. Matt, Kinzie," The orange haired girl and British young man stiffened a bit. "You're going to start info-gathering on the universe we're shipping off to. Get as much dirt on the government, possible allies, maybe even if there are any Agents stationed out there."

"Yeah, no problem, Boss." Matt said, flicking his hair, while Kinzie simply folded up her laptop.

"Pierce, get that stashe of dolls you had me get a while back packed up and ready." The Boss continued. "You know the ones…" The Boss spared a nasty, almost disgusted look at Pierce. "Sick bastard."

"Fo' the last time," Pierce moaned, rolling his eyes. "They're _collectables!_ "

"Don't care. Still gross." The Boss said. "Shaundi, call the boys up and get 'em mobilized. We might be better off with a few more of our own on this case, even with other Agents to back us up."

"Got it, Boss." Shaundi said, placing her hands on her hips.

"Johnny," The Boss paused, watching Johnny Gat draw long scraping strokes with his whetstone. "Do your thing." Johnny simply nodded, getting the gist perfectly. The Boss stood up from his chair, placing both hands on his desk. "We got two hours before shipping out, I'll meet you all at the transports in an hour in a half. Got it?" Everyone gave quick nods. Smirking, the Boss raised a pumped fist in the air. "Saints RULE!"

"SAINTS RULE!" The other Saints cheered, sprinting out of the office to get themselves ready. Once the last person exited, the Boss walked over to a tightly locked safe, protected by two sets of code locks and a fingerprint scanner. The Boss rapidly input the codes and stuck his middle finger on the scanner, the door of the safe opening with a quiet hiss. He knelt down on the ground, gazing into his private security stash, staring at the contents within with a sense of nostalgia and awe.

"I'm so glad I get to use this again." The Boss softly said, reaching into the safe and producing the envy of all the sex world. A hard shelled, bona-fide, gold plated, diamond tipped, amethyst lined, seven-million dollar worth codpiece. Wasting no time in neglecting this wondrous treasure, the Boss removed the codpiece from its container and stuffed it in the pockets of his suit. Save the sexually goofing off for later, for now, the Saints had a lot of work to do.

* * *

While Panty and Stocking called for a mechanic to get their car, See-Through, taken care of after that little escapade with the Baron and the Boss on the highway, the two lewd angels had to take a cramped bus all the way back to their home, the incredibly picturesque and slightly creepy Cathedral of Heaven. One of the larger landmarks of Base Prime (which is honestly saying something, given the fact one of the Agents _is_ a landmark just because he's so huge), the Cathedral of Heaven can best be described as all of the famous churches of Earth got busy with a spaceship and made a bigger baby version of all of them combined. A bit of St. George here, some Notre Dame there, and even a dash of good ole Yharnam architecture. To many, the Cathedral of Heaven caters to the Agents and Officials of the IDA who associate with the domain of god and heaven itself, as such many members of the Cathedral are either clergy, priests, demon and monster hunters, to even a few angels themselves. Of course, the Cathedral tried to be all-inclusive, open to a variety of religious practices, including the Way of White, the Great Journey, the Jedi Order, and even the more 'out-there' Church of Robotology. Either way, the Cathedral welcomes everybody… except the Cults that worship the apocalypse and otherworld menaces. They stay in the Haunting Grounds with the rest of the supernatural beings.

Panty and Stocking walked up the steps to the Cathedral proper, a gargantuan building bearing a great likeness to Notre Dame, and entered the vast interior. The walls were pristine with blue and black tiling, kept bright and alight with sconces containing electric flames, and sported a wide variety of statues and murals of faith, not to mention was filled with the various members of the Cathedral. Everything was neat, orderly, and above all, quiet. So, Panty and Stocking decided to announce their presence in the most plausible way possible.

"WAZZUP BITHCES?!" Panty shouted at the top of her lungs, breaking the din of quiet that held the Cathedral. A collective groan echoed throughout the halls from, well, pretty much everyone in the vicinity. It was no surprise that, in spite of the two being angels from heaven, NO ONE in the Cathedral's ranks particularly cared for the Anarchy Sisters and their lewd behaviors. Unfortunately for the Officials and Agents in charge, they can't remove them from the premises due to their own pledges to allow anyone willing… Even if they are skanks. The two sisters walked down the halls, ignoring the cold stares they were receiving. Eventually, the two came across an old man dressed in Victorian black garb and sporting a peg in place of his left foot, resting in a wheelchair with a small book in his lap. "Hey, Gehrman! Ya know where Garterbelt is at? We gotta talk to him." The old man, Gehrman, sighed and shut the book he was reading.

"Hello there, Panty, Stocking," Gehrman regarded the two in a tired voice. "I believe your ward, Father Garterbelt, is conversing with Father Anderson of Iscariot and Rhea of Thorolund in regards to someone who claims to be a Lumen Sage." He reopened his book, which Stocking noticed the title being 'How to Pick Up Fair Maids', and resumed his reading. "Primary chapel, now please leave me be."

"Whatever, ya old fart." Panty scoffed, walking off in the direction of the aforementioned area. Before Stocking could follow her more risqué sister, she quickly loomed over Gehrman's shoulder and peered into the book.

"You know none of those tips actually work, right?" Stocking said, surprising the old man. He was so startled, not only did he throw the book aside, but ended up flailing about and falling out of his wheelchair. Seeing how bad that situation was, Stocking quickly ran off to find her sister. Eventually, the two arrived in the primary chapel, which pretty much just looks like any other church chapel, only larger and more metallic. Inside were a total of four individuals, all gathered about. First was a tall, sandy-blond haired man, adorned in a white overcoat, small round spectacles, and sporting a large scar across his left cheek. He seemed to be giving a very patient and knowing smile as one of the people, an old man wearing a golden robe that concealed all but his face, seemed to be rambling about something. Next to him was a beautiful young woman, dressed in white robes and hood, her hands clasped around a pendant of a white circle as she listened to the golden robed man ramble. Lastly was a tall black man, sporting a thick black beard and gigantic (and impressive) afro, dressed in white preacher robes marked with long red crosses draping from the shoulders, giving a rather intent glare at the golden robed man and processing everything he said with care. After the golden robed man ceased his rambling, the three Agents turned to each other in a moment of silence, before finally returning their gaze back to the man.

"Yeah, we don't believe a word of what you just said." The black man abruptly said. The golden robed man was aghast.

"Y-you don't believe that I am a Lumen Sage?" The old man asked in a quivering, quiet voice. "B-b-b-but I know all the portents and terms, understand our relationship with the angels of Paradiso, even the wretched Umbra Witches!"

"It's not that we _don't_ believe you, sir," The young woman said in a kind tone. "It's that we _can't_ believe you." She turned to the large blonde man. "Right, Father Anderson?"

"Ya've got that right, Rhea." Anderson said in a thick Irish accent. "The Lumen Sages, according to official IDA records, have been completely extinct for thousands of years in their home universes, the last one having been killed by two of the last Umbra Witches, both of whom are IDA Agents themselves."

"Just because you've got a sun pendant and like the color yellow don't mean you're the direct descendant of a race that communed with angels." The black man said, folding his arms behind his back. "Next time ya wanna BS your way into an inner circle of Heaven's faithful, do your fuckin' research next time." And with a mighty boot, the black man swung his leg and bashed it in the fake Lumen Sage's face, sending him flying out a conveniently open window. With that out of the way, the Anarchy Sisters casually strode up to the front of the room. "Well, now, if it ain't the heavenly skanks come to grace us with their malodorous presence."

"Up yours, too, Garterbelt." Panty casually said. "We got done with the meeting with Zedekiah, got ourselves a big-time team job." She and her sister casually sat down in one of the pews, while the preachers gathered around.

"He's putting us on a team with a bunch of other screw-offs to bring lewdness back to the people in this one parallel Japan." Stocking casually explained, petting the head of her cat doll(?). The two sisters quickly recapped what Zedekiah had instructed them (with Panty going into extreme detail on the fact that he wasn't wearing any pants), finally concluded that they needed to pick up See-Through before getting to transport. Throughout it all, Garterbelt and his two cohorts were silent (a first for anyone interrupting the two angelic skanks), until they were finally finished. After a little while of waiting, Garter rubbed the scruff of his beard and folded his arms.

"Alright, I'll get my shit together for packing and we'll meet in front of the Cathedral in an hours." Garterbelt finally said. The sisters were less than pleased, judging from their aghast reactions.

"What?! Who the hell said you were coming with us?!" Panty objected, spit flying from her mouth as she shouted.

"Yeah, I don't remember hearing Zedekiah inviting you along, afro-douche!" Stocking shouted. The two sisters swore up a storm, much to Anderson and Rhea's dismay, while Garterbelt simply waited for them to burn themselves out. When that time finally came (five minutes, new record for them), Panty and Stocking stood and fumed.

"Ya done?" Garterbelt asked, knowing the answer fully while the two girls growled at him. "Yeah, 'course you are. Anyway, as much as you and I hate it, we are bound by IDA contract to join each other on missions with me as your supervisor so y'all don't do anything stupid _like last time_." To emphasize the point, Garterbelt produced said contract, which was drafted up months ago after Panty and Stocking went on a mission that went horribly wrong because they spent so much time doing nothing but getting wasted. "So shut your damn pie-holes, get yo' shit together and get back to the entrance in two hours," He got up in their faces and shouted at the top of his lungs. "YA GOT THAT, YA DAMN ANGELIC SLUTS?!" Garterbelt nodded to Rhea and Anderson and exited the room.

"Ugh! That guy is such a twat!" Panty complained, sitting down in one of the pews. "Bringing up that contract and shit. What the hell were we supposed to when we're supposed to snag a guy eating at a place called 'Boobies', ask for soda? I don't fly that way."

"How do you two put up with that afro-douche?" Stocking asked. "I mean, that guy's attitude is so rank, it makes spoiled nougat smell like breath mints."

"When ya deal with the trotters I've got in my jurisdiction," Anderson admitted with a sigh. "Nothing bothers ya as much."

"He's not so bad, in my opinion." Rhea wistfully said. "He just has a great deal weighing upon his soul. We Undead and the Unkindled can relate to such burdens."

"Whatever," Panty said, stretching her back and walking out of the chapel, with Stocking in tow. "We got a job to get to. See ya guys later." The Anarchy Sisters left the room, leaving the two preachers to their own thing. While many may not like it, Panty and Stocking (with Garterbelt) are a force to be reckoned with, and are no doubt the perfect fighters for the job.

* * *

Beat skated down the streets of Urbania, the local area reminisce of familiar downtown areas Beat and his crew were acquainted with. Sure, the place was a dump, but it was home. Coming across an alley between a Bullet-Time Gun Store and a Bosco's Inconvenience Store, Beat rounded the corner and came across a wall spray-painted with an image of a shadowy man holding a smoking gun. Beat idly poked the single eye of the picture, pressing the concealed button and revealing the hidden doorway. Beat smirked, opening the door into the darkness down below, and hopped down on the ramp, allowing his skates to guide him to the hub proper. Once down a few flights of ramp, the spray-painting hoodlum finally came across his hood and all his friends. The pad itself was bigger than the garage he and his crew hung out in back in Shibuya-Cho, so it was definitely roomier, about two stories high, filled with cushy furniture and surround entertainment systems (courtesy of their sponsor, the Nightlife Lord DJ Professor K, owner and operator of the K-Records Dance Club), and best of all, pure white walls for artistic expression. Of course, most of the walls were no longer white, now nothing but a canvas of spray-painting wonder, every image from the GGs and a few guests expressing artistic uniqueness. Truly paradise.

"'Sup guys!" Beat shouted, gaining the attention of the seven other hoodlums in the room. They all offered a brief greeting before going back to their things, while Beat grabbed a tall pole and slid down. He skated over to a girl with orange lipstick wearing a pale green shirt with lily green stripped sleeves, matching green roller-skates, sitting atop a box of spray cans. "Hey, Gum, mind if I have the haul?"

"Sure thing, Beat," Gum said, getting off the box and skating over to the mini-fridge. "Muse got you already?" A young man wearing a blue jumpsuit and blue stocking cap over his eyes rolled by on yellow skates, snatching a soda from the fridge. "Tab, I was gonna drink that!"

"Snooze, ya lose, Gum!" Tab chuckled, pulling open the can, only to have it spray all over his face. Disoriented from the sudden blast, Tab accidentally rammed into a black punching bag, currently being worked on by a young black teen wearing orange goggles, camo shorts, grey and orange skates, thick black gloves and a necklace of a blue wispy skull. "Dang, Garam, whaddaya stuff this thing with, bricks?"

"Compact sandbags from construction sites," Garam grunted, punching the back at rapid speeds. "Only the best to get a few knocks off." He delivered another punch, only to have it miss and impact the wall after Garam's focus was thrown off by someone singing. Garam growled, turning towards a girl with blue hair, wearing an aquamarine sweater with puffy sleeves, stripped blue leggings, blue skates, and a grey headset on her ears loudly blaring some pop song as she idly skated about the room. "Mew, ya threw off my rhythm! Turn the tunes down!"

" _Na, da, da, na!"_ Mew sang to herself, along with the beat of the music. " _Ya know ya love me, cuz I'm a Lunarian!_ ' WOAH!" Mew stumbled over once her skates snagged on something on the floor, landing hard on her backside as she saw a grey cord tangled up in her skates. Right across from her was a wide-screen TV that new displayed a red 'Reconnect Controller' text, and behind her, resting on a black couch were two other members of the GGs, a red-haired young man wearing a green hoodie and 3D glasses and a black girl with her hair curled up in swirly braids, her white t-shirt opened up to display her (ahem) generous assets, and white jeans marked with red stars on the ankles. The former looking furious, with the latter showing slight amusement. "Oops, sorry Yo-Yo, Piranha…"

"Yo, I was _this_ close to beating her high score, yo!" Yo-Yo complained, pinching his fingers for further emphasis.

"Kid, you had no chance of beating me at this game," Piranha teased, flicking Yo-Yo on the nose. "As big of a nerd you are." Piranha laughed, holding Yo-Yo back with a single hand while the hoodie wearing kid attempted to throttle her. Watching this were the two recent members of the GGs, one a large muscular black man wearing a black vest, yellow shirt, grey jeans, a black fish bucket hat, a golden necklace displaying a Yen symbol, and holding a large boom-box on his shoulder, blasting music for all the room to enjoy, and a small goth girl wearing a grey and black t-shirt, exposing her midriff and a tattoo of some odd symbol, painting her nails black to match her hair and fingerless gloves.

"Those two at it again, Combo?" The Goth girl lazily asked. Her friend, Combo, simply nodded.

"Yup, third time today, Cube." Combo said. "Those two ain't ever gonna learn." Beat slid past the two, a bundle of spray cans in his arms, coming up to a blank spot on the wall where a tall young man wearing an orange jacket zipped up to his large nose, brown stripped jeans, and yellow goggles on his forehead, was about to get started on a new masterpiece… only for Beat to check him out of the way.

"Hey, Beat, I was gonna make myself a new magnum opus!" The large nosed teen exclaimed in a slightly nasally tone. "A true graffiti masterpiece that would put all others to shame with its splendor and magnificence!"

"Yeah, whatever Slate, shut up for a moment." Beat said, dismissively. He set the box of spray cans aside and whistled loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "Fellow GGs, I have awesome news for all of you in regards to that notice the big boss himself sent to us!" He plucked a blue and yellow spray can and quickly got to work on the wall, spraying a stylish 'New Awesome Mission' in bubbly letters above his head. "Zedekiah wants us to put our artistic skills to use and help an entire country from dooming itself!" A few of the GGs titled their heads in curiosity. "We are going to an Alternate Earth, specifically good ole' Japan, to help reeducate an entire populace with our art, but in a way outside our comfort zones." He tossed the cans aside and plucking three cans of white, black, and grey.

"How exactly do you mean 'outside our comfort zones'?" Gum asked, popping a stick of bubble gum in her mouth. Beat simply turned to the wall and began spray-painting a tall image from the floor to the lettering, using curves, popping out portions, and a bit of emotional splendor. He turned about and displayed the latest piece, a buxom woman in black lingerie.

"The place is a world where the concept of dirty jokes does not exist," Beat explained. "Where so much as saying a single swear word will have you thrown in jail for life." To some, the concept alone was baffling.

"So no saying stuff like 'up yours' or 'screw you'?" Tab asked, to which Beat gravely nodded. "Jeez, those people don't know how to live."

"Exactly." Beat said, setting the cans aside. "Apparently, it's gotten so bad that people don't even know where babies come from!"

"Pfft! Everyone knows where babies come from!" Mew said, propping herself on a seat. "The stork brings 'em in, right?" She waited for everyone to either respond in agreement or stop staring at her like she was an idiot. "Right?"

"So, yeah, the big man Zedekiah wants us, the GGs, to join in a team to bring down this censorship-influenced government and bring a bit of joy and freedom in back to the people!" Beat said, spraying a smiley face on the wall. "Just like back home, only with more nudes and less Onishima calling down the military on us."

"Good times." Piranha said with a smirk, Garam nodding in response.

"The GGs have been contracted to be part of a team effort to help take the fight to the system." Beat continued, procuring more spray cans. "I'm not gonna lie, you probably won't like most of the people we're working with, but it'll have to do." He sprayed a quick picture of the Black Baron's head in black and white spray-paint, his smug look almost uncannily perfect to the original. "First off is the Black Baron," The GGs inwardly groaned at the notion of working with that lout, while Beat sprayed a gold and purple fleur. "Then we gotta play nice with the Saints," Now the GGs externally groaned, recounting several run-ins with the Saints whilst spreading their art, as Beat sprayed a pistol and a pair of swords, both in pale blue and white colors. "Then we need to stay on the Anarchy Sisters good side, maybe get a little lucky with one of them."

"Not even in your dreams, yo!" Yo-Yo called out, earning a few laughs while Beat threw an empty can at his head, having finished spray-painting an almost perfect replica of the Bird of Wei.

"And we need to put up with a Wei Warrior." Beat concluded, looking at the concerned faces on his friends. "Don't worry, it's Zhang He, the one everyone either likes or just can't take seriously."

"Isn't he that guy who dances all over the place like a ballerina?" Tab asked. "Because he gives me the willies, man." A few grunts of agreement came from Cube, Yo-Yo, and Mew.

"Enough about that, let's get onto the mission specs themselves." Beat continued, spray painting a stylish map of Japan. "Basically, with these guys we've been saddled with, Zedekiah wants us to bring back perversion and lewdness onto the people, and he thinks that we can do so with our amazing artistic skill and know-how." He quickly sprayed a pair of black lingerie on the man of Japan, a wide smile on his face. "Let's go and prove him right!" The GGs all cheered their approval. "We got two ours to make it to the transports, so let's rock on!" Everyone rose to their feet, grabbing as many spray cans as they can and prepping their stuff. Soon, the GGs were ready, and there was just one thing left to do. "Combo, play us off!" Nodding his head, Combo hefted the boom-box on his shoulder, tuned in to a radio station that everyone knew and loved. And it began with three magic words…

" _JET SET RADIO!_ " The GGs all exclaimed, once a particular song came on, booming and bouncing all over, putting them in just the right mood to rock on (*). Piranha mashed a button on the large garage door, opening it up wide and into the streets of Base Prime. All at once, the gang of spray-happy teens poured out onto the Urbania road, music blasting and spirits high. People quickly got out of the way as the GGs, spray cans in hand and smiles on their faces, quickly skated down the road. A day without the GGs is a day without music and art, every day they pass by they leave their imprint everywhere. No building was untouched by artwork, no ear was absent of music beats, and no person was spared from becoming part of the massive canvas the GGs enjoyed. By the time they ran out of their first spray cans, the GGs had succeeded in making three blocks of Urbania into a gorgeous canvas of street art. Overlooking their achievement, Beat turned to Tab and Gum, and with a smile on everyone's face, threw their hands up into the air and exclaimed in a proud voice alongside their music. " _VIVA! VIVA! VIVA! LA REVOLUTION!"_

* * *

Zhang He's precession waited patiently for his return from the meeting, and once the Wei General had officially arrived, he actually stormed off in a hurry, leaving the delegates alone and confused. Zhang He walked a few miles towards an area on the fringes of Central Base Prime, one of the larger and more unique areas: The Dynasty Embassies. Due to the amount of power the Dynasty Warriors (and their universal counterparts, the Samurai Warriors), and the influence three of the de-facto leaders of these warriors held amongst the various groups and even the Upper Council, they had unique accommodations for themselves and their armies. Zhang He came to a rapid halt once he reached the tall gates of the Dynasty Embassies, a massive sub-city located within Central Base Prime, roughly the size of modern-day Beijing and architecturally similar to a futuristic version of Luoyang, the Capitol of the Three Kingdoms. Initially divided into four quarters, the Dynasty Embassies play host to three of the four Kingdoms of the era. The Wei Dynasty, marking its territories with an elegant bird and Zhang He's own affiliation, stood to the north, with dominating blue and white buildings housing the ruthless and calculating warriors, the motto of "Ambition and Talent" written above the entrance in Chinese characters. The Wu Dynasty, the brave tigers, stood to the west in more humble buildings of red and brown shading, open to all travelers and home to the most welcome of warriors. The Jin Dynasty, the victor that stood upon the shoulders of all three kingdoms, lay to the south, a tightly guarded area marked with an ornate horse and in black and purple shadings, and home to the more devious and cunning of the Warriors themselves. A while ago, the Shu Dynasty, the kindhearted warriors of benevolence and peace, held its own Embassy to the west, but recently defected to the Order of Purity after an incident very few seem to know about aside from the leader of Jin, the now vacant spot simply a housing locale for unaffiliated Warriors and Agents.

Zhang He casually strolled down the metallic streets, occasionally pausing to wave at any soldiers with blue or purple attire and even performing a few idle dances amidst the drifting synthetic leaves. It wasn't like the gentle blossoms that sailed through the air back home, but no matter where he was, the world was Zhang He's stage. With a twirl and a leap, Zhang He took off into the air, with pirouettes and dives he performed a masterpiece of dance that anyone could describe as beautiful… or fruity, depending on taste. He eventually came to a halt in front of the large doors of the Wei Embassy, the imposing blue building modeled after the Emperor's own palace, hung with banners of his kingdom and guarded by various soldiers. Very few were allowed inside, but Zhang He was definitely an exception. He traipsed in past the guards, gracefully twirling alone in the halls of the majestic building by his lonesome. Once he came across a shut door, curiosity got the better of him as he heard the sound of grunting beyond the walls. So, Zhang He poked his head in, and nearly had his nose taken off by a triad of arrows.

"Oh, holy hell!" Exclaimed raspy man's voice. Zhang He turned and saw the room had two occupants, both of whom the General was familiar with. First was an imposing man in blue armor, sporting a small pointed beard and mustache and bearing a stern look enhanced by the eyepatch on his left eye, a large sword sheathed to his belt. The other was a more bulky man with a goatee, wearing a full set of blue armor and helmet, looking a bit surprised as he slung his bow to his back. Zhang He knew them well, fellow generals Xiahou Dun and Xiahou Yuan, cousins to the leader of Wei, Cao Cao. "I almost took off your face, He! I can't say how sorry I am!"

"Think nothing of it, Yuan," Zhang He said, walking into the room and flicking a strand of hair that fell out of place. "I merely should have expected you to have target practice inside…" He looked around and took note of the fancy décor of the room. "NOT the training yard."

"Hey, don't call me out for practicing my shots in here," Xiahou Yuan defended, padding himself on the chest. "The yard doesn't have the stuff I need to perfect these shots, and with the Archery Contest next week, I…"

"He thought it would be a good idea to practice trick shots in a gallery." Xiahou Dun interrupted. "I came along to make sure he didn't break anything." He shot an irate look at his more lax cousin. "Again."

"That vase was in the way!" Yuan retorted. "And Jia Xu yanked that one arrow out Cao Pi's custom tapestry before he could find out. All's fine!" Both Zhang He and Xiahou Dun exchanged skeptical glances. "And _maybe_ Dian Wei is still a little miffed I shot him in the leg by accident…" Dun cupped a hand over his cousin's mouth to keep him from reciting the incidents of the past few days.

"So, how was your meeting with Zedekiah?" Dun asked. "B3 Missions are quite a big deal, only Yuan, Lord Cao Cao, his son, Dian Wei, Xu Shu, and I have received those honors on rare occasions." Zhang He chuckled, twirling a bit.

"Well, that's why I have returned," Zhang He explained. "I need to talk with our Lord to go on leave to complete this mission. Is he here?" Yuan forced Dun's hand off his mouth, placing his hands behind his head.

"Yeah, our lord is in his office," Yuan stated. "Down the hall, finishing up a meeting with 'you-know-who'." Zhang He inwardly groaned, knowing _exactly_ who he was talking about, and responded with a forced smile through grit teeth.

"I wasn't aware our lord was opening up negotiations with usurpers…" Zhang He said, taking up a mock distressed look. "But, I digress, I must alert our lord to this new mission. Farewell." And so, he danced out of the room, leaving the two cousins by themselves. Eventually, Zhang He reached the massive ornate doors that led to Cao Cao's office. Slowly, he pried the doors open, entering the traditional Chinese room, almost perfectly modeled after the Emperor's throne room, with the exception of the Wei banners and the formal desk complete with holographic computer, but Zhang He's attention was more towards the two important figures in the room. First to catch his eye was a sinister-looking man wearing purple and white robes, hands tucked into the large sleeves and displaying a serpent's grin. Zhang He knew him as Sima Yi, leader of the Jin Warriors and _former_ Wei Warrior until he and his ilk seized power and became their own. Zhang He was usually one to let bygones be bygones, but it's hard to forgive someone who intentionally led him to his own death. Thank god for Gem Bodies. But, Sima Yi was not Zhang He's real intent, rather the man Yi was talking to. Sitting behind the desk, dressed in royal garb of blue, white, black and gold, sporting a hair style that came off as incredibly intimidating, and a cold look that could freeze even the heartiest of men in their place, was none other than Cao Cao, the Hero of Chaos. Both Warriors noticed Zhang He's entrance, and reacted in no rash way, instead with Sima Yi turning to Cao Cao with a smug look.

"I humbly request that you consider my offer some more, my lord." Sima Yi said, his voice smooth as ice and just as chilling.

"You lost all rights to call me your lord long ago, Great Educator." Cao Cao responded, his voice deep and commanding respect, yet carried a great deal of hatred when mentioning Yi's title. "Be gone." Seeing no purpose of remaining, Sima Yi bowed his head and calmly exited the room, only sparing a small glance at Zhang He as the two passed. Once the doors shut tight, Zhang He proudly bowed before his lord. "Zhang He, I trust that your meeting with Zedekiah Strong went well?"

"Indeed it did, my lord," Zhang He proudly said. "For you see, Lord Strong has requested that I personally aid in a special mission to help bring peace, stability, and beauty to a dominated nation!"

"I see…" Cao Cao softly said, producing a quill pen and parchment. While the IDA strongly pushed the usage of technology for most leaders within their ranks, more traditional practitioners such as Cao Cao preferred to keep things simplistic with the written word. "And you've come to request leave to complete said mission?"

"Oh yes, my lord!" Zhang He giddily said, rising to his feet. "A tremendous honor it is to work alongside a team of others to make a world as bland as this one see the light of beauty and grace!" He paused, mid pose. "Even if the method is not what I honestly care for." Cao Cao quirked an eyebrow, setting the quill aside and folding his fingers.

"You're being put on a team, are you?" Cao Cao asked, to which Zhang He nodded. "Tell me, who will you be working with?" It was then that Zhang He completely stopped his dancing, realizing his lord might not approve of the company selected for him.

"Well, my lord…" Zhang He timidly said. "I'll be working with a… group of freelance artists… a pair of angels… a somewhat reputable organization… and…" Sweat ran down his forehead as he raced to think up a cover title, while Cao Cao silently judged him. "A Nightlife Lord…"

"Artists, angels, a somewhat reputable organization," Cao Cao listed, looking a bit skeptical. "And a Nightlife Lord, you say?" Zhang He quickly nodded. "I see… Would their names happen to be the GGs Spray Gang, the Anarchy Sisters, the 3rd Street Saints, and the Black Baron?" Zhang He's smile drooped. He knew.

"Um… yes, my lord." Zhang He hesitantly said. "How did you-?" Before he could continue, Cao Cao simply turned the monitor of his computer about, displaying a message from Zedekiah Strong. It was a complete detailed document of the entire mission Zhang He was selected for, right down to the objective and the Agents assigned. "Oh."

"I'm fully aware that Zedekiah requested that you partake in this mission to start a…" Cao Cao paused, trying to find the word he was looking for. "Naughty revolution with such a group of vagabonds." He cautiously worked at the keyboard, enhancing on images of each of Zhang He's new teammates, starting with an image of the GGs spray painting the Wu Embassy. "A group of vandalizing teenagers…" Next came a picture of the Anarchy Sisters, with Panty flipping off the camera. "Angels who were cast out of heaven…" Next an image of the Boss of the Saints, pointing a gun at the camera. "A criminal syndicate and galactic empire…" Finally was a photo of the Black Baron and Mathilda, sitting in a nightclub and drinking heavily. "And a deplorable man with no sense of dignity…" He turned the computer away, Cao Cao rising from his seat and moving towards his general. "I would not approve of this selection of people, especially approve of such an outrageous mission."

"My lord, if I may object," Zhang He suddenly said, bowing his head. "As unconventional as these people may be, I would never doubt Lord Strong's judgement for the greater good. He had chosen myself and these very people who can stand up for the people being held back physically, emotionally, and sexually, and take up arms against the foes who defy the treaty imposed by Zedekiah Strong of the IDA, Mask of the Army of Abominations, and Sir Reginald of the Order of Purity. I know this is most unorthodox compared to the various tasks you impose upon me, my lord, but I must insist," He raised his head, giving a look of insistence and determination. "That you allow me to partake of this duty, for the greater good." For a long while, neither of them said a word, a pregnant pause of silence hung about the room as both sides awaited the response of the other. Soon, the silence was broken by the sound of Cao Cao's chair scraping against the floor.

"Zhang He, you did not let me finish my words." Cao Cao said, his voice stern and powerful. "I said _I_ would not approve of this selection of people, and this mission." He reached into his desk and produced a small photograph and presented it to Zhang He. He looked at the photo, it showed Cao Cao standing with a large group of people, recognizable faces included Lu Bu, one of Cao Cao's sworn enemies and the strongest Dynasty Warrior alive, a man dressed in black Church clothing, a crazed-looking man dressed in bright clothing like a clown, a green-skinned woman wearing black clothing and a lightning-bolt horned helmet, Sun Jian, the leader of the Wu Dynasty Warriors, Liu Bei, leader of the Shu Dynasty Warriors, and a magnificent white horse with wings, a horn, and a flowing tri-colored mane. Zhang He recognized all these people, most of whom were IDA Agents themselves, and this photo was from the day that the Dynasty Warriors joined the IDA itself after a tremendous catastrophe. "Granted, you do not choose who you work with, rather it is fate that decides these things under the Mandate of Heaven."

"My lord…" Zhang He was speechless. Cao Cao turned about, facing his back to the door.

"I could see the ambition in your eyes, Zhang He," Cao Cao continued. "You were meant to take on this task. So, you may go with my blessing. Good luck and serve in my name." Zhang He's face lit up like a New Year firecracker, rising to his full height and standing proud before his lord.

"Thank you my lord!" Zhang He cheerfully said. "I promise you that I will do my best to serve my duties in your name and make the Multiverse a beautiful place for all." And so, with business concluded, Zhang He back flipped out of Cao Cao's office, down the hall, and out of the Embassy. There was work to be done, and by the Mandate of Heaven, Zhang He will complete it with a smile on his face.

* * *

The Baron broke down the door to his apartment for the second time that day, knocking it off the hinges and onto the floor, quickly running into his room and rummaging through his stuff while Mathilda simply walked in and sat down on her chair. The Baron pulled out a yellow and white spotted suitcase and began haphazardly tossing in, well, pretty much anything he could get his hands on.

"This is the Baron's big break, baby!" The Baron shouted, yanking his clothes off the hangers in his closet. "A Class B3 mission that revolves around the glorious world of sex and debauchery! Abso-fuckin'-lutely perfect!" He piled up several piled up several different coats, pimp hats, sweat pants, a wide variety of underwear (while debating why he had so many thongs, being a dude and all), a few spare sunglasses, and of course, his lucky Pimpin' Cane. Once everything was in place, and mashed inside of the small suitcase, the Baron exited his room while Mathilda was looking at an official looking piece of paper. "This'll get us outta this shithole and into a real place to crash! No more leaky faucets, no more broken water heater, no more creaky floors that break every other day, no more-" He shut up once Mathilda shoved the paper in his face. He quickly read it over. "No more power? We skipped payment on the bill so they're cutting us off tomorrow?" The Baron scoffed, crumpling up the paper and tossing it behind his back. "Pssh, when we finish this job, we won't need to worry about that kinda crap, baby." However, what the Baron didn't notice was that when the paper ball flew behind him, it accidentally pressed the electrical switch to the light dangling above, and in turn rolled onto the counter and knocked over a bottle of 'sugar', which then rolled on its side and onto the floor, where it impacted on a book balancing a rule and a dangerously placed kitchen knife, where it sent the knife flying into the air and cutting the weakened strands of the light fixture. "Yeah, baby, we are going to live light and shine like stars!" Ironically enough as he said that, the fixture broke, dropped down on his head with a single wire connecting it to the ceiling, shattering the bulb on his skull, and frying him like a Thanksgiving turkey. The Baron jolted and shook from the voltage coursing through his head, screaming at the top of his lungs "AW HELL NAW!" before the power was too much, and his head popped like an overripe tomato. The Baron's headless body tumbled to the floor, while the fixture continued to spark lifelessly and Mathilda shook her head. This was clearly going to be a very long job.

* * *

 _Author's Note: This took WAY longer than it should have, but things have been a bit complicated on our ends. Luckily we got this chapter out, and hopefully a new chapter to Ultimate Tournament and the Guide to the Multiverse in suit. In the meantime, keep posted for the next chapter of Pimpin' Peace and Perversion, where we finally get to the freakin' universe and start on some REAL action! GET READY, MOTHER FUCKERS, 'CUZ WE'RE READY TO ROLL!_

 _~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask_

* * *

 **CREATIVE CONSULTANT'S NOTES: This chapter's song is Rock It On, from Jet Set Radio. Not all the chapter songs will be from MadWorld or Anarchy Reigns, unfortunately, there are not enough songs to fit the bill. That's what we've got Jet Set Radio and the Anarchy Sisters for.**

 **-IDA Official, Creative Consultant Calibri**


	4. Chapter 3: Jaw

**Chapter Three: Jaw**

* * *

Many would describe the merging between various worlds, each with its own manner of power, be it the unnatural phenomena of magic or the intellectual marvel of science and technology, to be a bit of a mess. The IDA proves those skeptics dead wrong. With the culmination of magic and technology from across a multitude of worlds (cheekily referred to by some as Magi-Tech), an unlimited series of doors are made open. Space ships have abandoned Faster-Than-Life travel power cores with magically infused runic gems that boost the output twenty-fold. Medieval armor has been modified with cybernetic infusions to make them harder, better, faster, and stronger. Weapons of all types are imbued with both magical enchantments and technological modifications for all Agents and Officials to use. But by far the biggest accomplishment of Magi-Tech resources is the Gates.

Prior to the invention of the Gates, universes would interact via the Rifts, random tears in the fabric of reality between various universes that seem to let all manner of things through. They were unpredictable, erratic, opened in inconvenient spots, and more often got people killed by accident, not to mention if too many opened up, it could tear the universes apart. Think of it as taking a nail and poking it into the shell of an egg repeatedly. It wasn't until the Universal Power Leaders got together and decided enough is enough, putting together the best and brightest of both magic users and scientific geniuses to create a way to control the Rifts. Several trials, incidents, and the creation of a being on par with an Elder God and just as angry, the results finally yielded in the birth of the Gates, stable tears in the fabric of reality that can yield safe journey to specifically linked universes. By utilizing scientific equipment to open the Gate and change the coordinates of where the vortex between worlds open and ends, as well as magical runes and gemstones to keep the Gate stable and operating, the Gates have made travel between universes as easy as traveling by plane or boat. And so, here we are, at the IDA's most busy section for Agents and Officials in the line of duty, the Gateway.

The Gateway is a large platform located near the edge of Central Base Prime, a massive circular are lined with various Gates, all towering at three stories in height. The Gates themselves are gigantic parabola-shaped arches, similar in design to the Eridian Vaults or the Oblivion Gates, with a thick metal plating to hold it in place, and various swirling vortexes within, displaying a myriad of colors for each individual one. At the base of each Gate is a small lot of various starships from across the Multiverse, each properly attuned to travel through the harsh storms often found within the Gates and Rifts. Various Agents could be seen boarding and departing from different shuttles, mulling about on their various duties. And at the very center of the Gateway is a large kiosk manned by a single Watcher, looking bored as ever, where those traveling to and from universes are directed to their transports and given instructions for their duties. In a sense, the Gateway is like a massive airport with a lot less security measures and world jumping.

The Watcher idly waited in his kiosk, awaiting for the specific group of Agents selected by Zedekiah Strong to arrive, the lewd ones destined to deal with the recent Order of Purity incident in the Alternate Earth suffering from extreme censorship. They all were incredibly late, much to the Watcher's annoyance, but given the limited amount of time, it was understandable. However, his hopes were raised when several transport shuttles and vehicles pulled up to the entrance, each bearing the specific Agents the Watcher was informed of prior. First to arrive were several purple cars and vans, bringing with them the members of the 3rd Street Saints, the Boss and his lieutenants, hauling several loads of cargo, no doubt carrying the necessities for the mission like guns and ammo… At least until one of the crates breaks open by accident and several inflatable dolls tumble out onto the floor. Following them in a recently patched together hot-pink jeep were the Anarchy Sisters, their preacher boss Garterbelt, and a small green dog-like thing with a single wide eye and zippers for ears (named 'Chuck', if reports were still correct). The four seemed to be amidst a heated argument, and Panty seemed to be on the verge of murdering Garterbelt while Stocking idly licked a lollipop. Skating down the ramp to the area, blasting music from the Jet Set Radio station were all eight members of the GGs Spray Gang, each of the teens looking happy as a jay bird while spray-painting everything in sight. After them, walking/dancing by his lonesome was Zhang He, who stepped off a transport cab, the joyous Wei Warrior gracefully made his way towards the kiosk while a poor sap hauled dozens of luggage on his back. The whole gang was there… except the kingpin himself. Once everyone had gathered around, Watcher took a headcount and quickly noticed that the Baron and Mathilda were absent.

"Okay, where the hell are the last two?" Watcher complained, while everyone else seemed to have no answer. "Typical. I guess we all will have to wait until they-." His rant was cut short when a loud crash and the sound of a car alarm blaring. Everyone's gaze turned to the burning wreckage of a small, block-like ship crashed into a tall pole, with the Baron and Mathilda lying in the ground, looking no worse for the wear. Mathilda picked herself up off the ground and pulled the Baron up with her.

"Okay, remind me never to take the wheel on an Engi cab again." The Baron groaned, cricking his neck a bit. "Those robo-aliens think that everything needs a triple-stick shift and nothing has labels." The two bounty hunters made their way to the kiosk, where Watcher and the others waited. "How's e'rybody doin'?"

"Nice of you to finally show up." Watcher said, rising from his seat. "We'll get to proper introductions in a bit, first, I'll take you to the ship." The hooded man started walking towards the shipyard, with the rest of the massive group following, each mingling amongst themselves on various matters. The Saints mostly talked amongst themselves about something or other, the GGs chatted with each other over paint designs and music, Panty and Stocking blabbed to each other while Garterbelt had a simple conversation with Zhang He, and the Baron and Mathilda were oddly silent. Eventually, the group came to their Gate and their… mildly unusual space ship. A common joke about the designs of vehicles designed for FTL travel looking like a certain 'appendage' of the human male anatomy has been existing throughout a multitude of universes. This ship doesn't even try and hide the shame. A large grey and blue space shuttle approximately three yards in length, with a large cockpit resting at the front of the hull and twin circular spheres serving as high powered engine. At the base of this… interesting ship, emblazoned in white sprayed on font, the ship's name and number: The OGC-1. Not a single person there could take their eyes off the ship, while Watcher went to go and fetch the crew.

"I'm not the only one seeing a flying cock-n-balls ship right in front of me, right?" Pierce asked. Everyone simply nodded in awestruck agreement.

"Okay, I get Zedekiah wants us to express perversion for this," Gum said, absent-mindedly blowing a bubble. "But I think he's taking it a little too far." The rest of the GGs gave their own sounds of agreement. Watcher eventually returned with two people accompanying him, one a handsome man with brown hair and a smug look on his face and the other an anthropomorphic koala man, both wearing turquoise and white shirts and grey pants. Once in range, Watcher took one look at the ship, winced subtly, and regained his composure before the gathered team.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Watcher announced with a sharp-toothed smile. "Allow me to introduce you to your primary transport for this mission," He brought the handsome man forward. "Captain Jay," He brought the koala man also. "And Co-Captain Hamilton. Operators of the OGC-1, one of the faster runner ships in the IDA's fleet."

"My ship may be fast," Captain Jay says in a smooth voice, shoving Watcher aside. "But I prefer to take my time with…" He shot a sly glance at the women in the group. "Precious cargo." The reactions were… various. Shaundi and Kinzie both groaned, the GG girls cringed (due to all technically being high school students), Mathilda scoffed, pretty much all the guys wanted to beat the hell out of this womanizer, Hamilton face palmed, and Stocking shot a really irritated look at Panty, who appeared to have returned the glance.

"Okay, did you diddle him?" Stocking asked, her eyes narrowed down.

"Pssh, fuck yeah I did." Panty said, without so much as a hint of regret. "Several times, actually. Asshat's got great junk."

"Yep, I pride myself on having the greatest penis in the entire Multiverse." Jay said, standing between the two angel sisters. "And I welcome all you ladies to the captain's quarters for the trip. Maybe have a seat on the cockpit…"

"And that was a phrase that was just said." The Boss said with a snarl, stepping away from his group and towards the chauvinistic space captain. "Look, pal, you are not gonna just walk up here and start flirting with the gals. Now, because I'm a nice guy, I'm going to let you off with a warning." As Jay prepared for the Boss to say more, everyone was shocked to see the Saint Leader ball one hand up into a fist and punch Jay in the crotch, only for a loud clang and the sound of shattering bones to follow. Everyone was dead silent as the Boss withdrew his hand, all the fingers bent out of shape and bruised beyond all reason. "Um… What kinda codpiece do you have on?"

"Ugh… none…" Hamilton said, his voice tired and nasally. "Jay literally has the strongest pelvic bone and Johnson in our galaxy… and by extension, the IDA." He helped the Boss onto his feet while Jay walked back to the ship on a ramp beneath the *cough* shaft. "Probably should've warned you about that." The Boss gave a half-hearted chuckle, while Shaundi and Johnny moved to treat the broken hand.

"Right…" Watcher slowly said. "Anyway, the OGC-1 and the crew will serve as your primary transport for supplies and additional troops when we deem it necessary. Believe it or not, this ship is complete with a specialized stealth cloaking mechanism and engine silencer, so it can sneak you into Japan's borders with relative ease, without attracting any unwanted attention from the government and the Order Servants. Plus, the engine rooms have a lot of storage for running supplies in and out." A short gasp of excitement came from Tab, earning a nasty look from the Watcher. "You make so much as a testicle joke, and I will have you reassigned to cleaning duty in the Arena… For Blood Bowl Week." That shut him up quick.

"Yeah, about that, Watcher," The Baron pipped up. "Why the fuck did ya requisition a flying ding-dong as our ship? Not exactly subtle, if ya ask me." Mathilda shot the Baron a disbelieving look, questioning what the hell the Baron knew about subtly. The Watcher sighed in aggravation, leaning against one of the ship's engines.

" _I_ wasn't the one who selected the OGC-1 as your ship, and neither did Mr. Strong," The Watcher admitted. "That was the choice of your financial sponsor…" Once again, everyone was left in confused silence. This time, Zhang He was the one to speak up.

"We have a financial sponsor for this endeavor?" Zhang He asked, raising a gloved finger. "And, pray tell, who is -?"

"OHHH JOY!" Exclaimed a loud, relaxed, almost orgasmic sounding tinny voice. "My little pet project has finally gathered and presented itself in proud prostration!" Everyone turned towards the source of the voice, and all reactions were… varied, to say the least.

"What the hell?" Beat asked, his eyes wide behind his goggles.

"Are you shitting me?" The Boss groaned, wincing as Shaundi wrapped his hand in bandages and splints.

"No way…" Panty and Stocking both said, the former gaping in shock and the latter pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Of all the luck…" Zhang He muttered through the palm of his hand on his face.

"We're being paid to do this by the damn robot?!" The Baron exclaimed, a wide smile eclipsing his face. Waddling towards them was a golden robot, designed to look like a reclining Greek monarch, with arms sticking out of the top of the chair and four legs moving while a fat-roundish body and head rested on the center. The robot's head sported a pair of tired blue eyes, a light up voice-box mouth, and had a copper wreath resting atop its head. The robot waddled towards the Baron and extended one of its grasper claw hands towards him and shook his hand. "Nice tah see ya again, Hedonism Bot!"

"Joyous occasion it is to work alongside another Nightlife Lord," The robot, Hedonism Bot, said, chuckling lightly. "Especially in such a gallant excursion such as this! Ah ha! Oh, this reminds me of the grand days on Bourbon Street, especially when Once-a-Year Day rolls around." Hedonism Bot put a metal claw to his head. "Ah, the joys of debauchery, oh sera!" While the two Nightlife Lords chatted away, the rest of the group returned their focus to Watcher, pretty much everyone looking bemused.

"Now I know you all are less than pleased that one of the more risqué Officials in the IDA is financing this mission," Watcher explained. "But he was the only one willing to go along with a mission that has 'perversion' written all over it." He spared a glance at the Baron and Hedonism Bot, the two engaged in laughter over something or other. "And he's one of the richest sponsors in the IDA, outside of the Corporate Presidents, and therefore will supply you with anything you need bar it not go over budget."

"And I expect that my golden bullions will go towards the greater good of the ghastly nature." Hedonism Bot nudged in, joining the group. "In addition to occasional progress reports! Don't skimp on all the naughty bits, you rrrrrascals! Bah ha hah ha!" With his business concluded, the risqué robot walked off, leaving the team to their own devices, the Baron letting off a content sigh.

"Man, that guy is great at parties." The Baron mused. "Weird and kinky parties."

"Who the fuck designs a robot for hedonism?" Johnny Gat asked, watching the robot walk away before throwing his hands up in dismissal. "Y'know what? I don't even wanna know." The engines of the OGC-1 flared up, igniting a hot blue flame that shot forward about six feet in length, nearly scorching the top of the Baron's head thanks to the idiot standing too close, before receding to cooldown.

"SHIT! That was a fuckin' close one!" The Baron laughed, taking off his hat and extinguishing the small flame on the feather. "Imagine if I were a few feet taller?"

"You'd prove to us you're a hothead," Panty muttered. "But we already know that part."

"Watchu say about me, ya angel skank?!" The Baron shouted, one of his gauntlets flaring up in hot flames a few feet away from Panty's face. Watcher quickly intervened by jumping between the two and kicking the Baron in the shin, bringing the big bounty hunter down.

"Save the aggression for the Order interlopers." Watcher warned. Once again the engines sounded, and a car-horn tooted in irritation. "And that's my cue to send you off. Agents, your primary objective is to restore the natural balance of Alternate Earth Universe 5H1M-0N-3TTA, dispel any/all Order of Purity members within, and maintain the Treaty of Three. More objectives will be sent to your Medallion Comms once you pass through the Barrier." Watcher dropped into a salute, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Good luck, god-speed, and remember our code…"

"The Fate of All is the Fate of One!" The Agents chorused, returning the salute. Once formalities were over, the Watcher took off and the team of Agents boarded the OGC-1's ramp. One by one, the Agents piled into the (surprisingly) spacious and clean main area of the OGC-1, and immediately directed themselves to the various seats and quickly fastened themselves in, knowing that things were going to get very bumpy, very fast. Each of the Agents tried to seat themselves next to their own counter parts, and for the most part succeeded, until one of the few open seats near the GGs was claimed by Zhang He before Beat could claim it. The Wei Warrior refused to give his seat up, and the poor teenager was forced to take a seat between the Boss and the Baron, both ready to pummel the kid at a moment's notice. Within the cockpit of the OGC-1, Jay and Hamilton were going through the quick procedures for taking off, with the captain listing the devices and co-captain checking them off.

"Engines online?" Jay listed.

"Check!" Hamilton cheerily replied, marking that off.

"Life support online?" Jay continued, speaking a little faster this time.

"Check!" Hamilton confirmed.

"Shields operational?" Jay continued, speaking faster with every syllable.

"Check!"

"Weapons primed?"

"Check!

"Cloaking device charged?"

"Check!"

"Still a virgin?"

"Check… HEY!" Hamilton scowled as Jay laughed loudly.

"Fall for it every time, dude." Jay sniggered. "Keep your ears cleaned, man." Hamilton rolled his eyes and continued his checks while Jay switched on the main speaker. "Good afternoon, ladies and jack-offs, this is your sexy captain of the OGC-1 speaking. We will be taking off in five minutes and departing from Base Prime to the Alternate Earth where perversion is illegalized." Jay shuddered from the thought alone. "The trip will take approximately three hours, so please remain in your seats until the ship has come to a complete stop… Or for the ladies, if ya wanna pass the time with some fun." Hamilton loudly groaned, watching as Jay waggled his eyebrows to the microphone. "So in the meantime, sit back, relax and HOLD ONTO YOUR TAINTS EVERYONE!" Jay concluded his announcement with a whoop and engaged the engines immediately. The OGC-1 steadily hovered off its supports, dust kicking off away from it while Agents and Officials cleared the area, and in an instant the engines flared off again, the penis-ship shooting off the Gateway ramps and into the open Gate before it, vanishing like a blip on a radar. Watcher witnessed the takeoff from a distant, his hooded face neutral as ever as a single thought crossed his mind. The only thought that a remotely sane person would think at this moment.

"We're resting our hopes for saving a unique world from Order radicals," Watcher softly said. "To a bunch of perverted idiots."

If anyone were to describe what the inside of a wormhole between Gates and Rifts looks like, they'd best describe it as if a flamboyant tiger ate a parrot, then threw up all over a hippie who proceeded to wrap himself in the British flag and replaced his eyes with kaleidoscopes. Granted, if an unprotected eye were to actually stare into a Gate or Rift vortex while still inside, the sheer sensory overload caused by so much as a glimpse will cause the brain to melt out the ears, eyeballs to catch fire, and the odd sensation of being able to taste the color purple (as described by one of the few individuals to experience this phenomenon and shockingly live). So, all those traveling are required to wear specialized goggles when flying through the vortex, and luckily the crew of the OGC-1 already had these on, while the team of Agents didn't require any thanks to the lack of windows on the ship, but that didn't stop them from keeping their eyes shut tight. The ship rumbled under the sheer force of the currents the vortex spewed out, rocking the phallic rocket back and forth with bombardment of pressures on par with ocean depths and strikes of red and purple lightning, it was taking all the strength and determination of the two pilots to keep the ship from falling apart!

Within the passenger bay, the others were faring just as harshly in their own unique ways. The Boss cheered and hollered at the turbulence, while the rest of the Saints were clinging for dear life to their seats (aside from Johnny Gat, who had the look best summed up in the five-word phrase "I don't give a fuck"). The GGs jostled about in their seats, most trying to hold their lunches while others held onto their possessions tightly. Panty and Stocking clung to each other tightly in fear of their lives, Garterbelt hugged himself to keep his breakfast burrito down, and Chuck (being the only one not strapped in) bounced about the area like a flying ping-pong ball, splattering on the walls at every shake and rumble. Mathilda comforted the Baron, who had bashed his head against his seat on one particularly nasty bump and now sported a sizeable gash on his head. Even the graceful and delicate Zhang He was having a hard time keeping it together, turning greener and greener by the second. Worst part of it all: They had to put up with it for another three hours.

"Good news, folks!" Hamilton called over the rumble of the ship. "We're just exiting the rough patch of the jump in just a minute! The turbulence should stop any moment now!" No sooner had the co-pilot finished his sentence that the ship came to a rapid halt, the turbulence stopping instantly and everyone's shaking coming to a halt (except for Chuck, who flew past everyone and splattered on the door to the cockpit). "Well, look at that. Called it." Everyone let out a sigh of relief, the madness was finally over. Once everyone got a chance to compose themselves, they all took a moment to just socialize.

"Well, now that that whole shit's over with," The Baron said, pressing a cloth against his bleeding head. "Let's do that thing where we say our names and skills and why we're all alcoholics." Mathilda whispered into his ear. "Sorry, that last part is for AA meetings. Just do the other things I said."

"The Saints and I will go first, because we're all boss." The Boss said, raising his hand as he adjusted his sunglasses with a free hand. "Kinzie, you first."

"Alright, my name is Kinzie Kensington," Kinzie said, the ginger-haired girl checking to see if her computer was still in one piece. "I'm a former FBI Agent with superb hacking and computer skills. I once shut down an entire city's power supply overseas with just a simple kill-code." Sitting next to her, Matt scoffed, flicking his hair out of the way.

"That's nothing, try funneling billions of dollars from five different corporations in less than two minutes with nothing but an old PDA." Matt tutted. "One step ahead, Agent Kensington. Anyway, I'm Matt Miller, former Syndicate member and technological wizard of the Saints."

"Two hackers, huh?" The Baron mused. "That'll help gettin' info and shit."

"Three, technically." Shaundi spoke up, raising one of her hands. "Name's Shaundi, I'm one of the three top brass of the Saints. I've got some decent experience hacking, but my better suit is leading the gang." She idly crossed her legs. "I'm also a great TV personality."

"I've seen your show." Panty said, scoffing as she picked her nose. "It's alright. Better that most of the shit we get in Daten City." Shaundi didn't really know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, so she just nodded her head and leaned back in her seat.

"Anyway, I'm Pierce Washington, one of the Saint leaders like Shaundi," Pierce spoke up, having retrieved his white hat from the floor. "I'm the guy who plans out what we're going to do… And these assholes ignore them most of the time." He jabbed thumbs at the Boss and Johnny Gat. The Boss laughed and clapped Pierce on the shoulder.

"Pierce, my man, we love your plans," The Boss cheered. "But you keep on forgetting that we're a 'shoot first, stab second, rob third, streak fourth, ask questions maybe after drugs' kind of group. Or at least I am." Retracting his hand, the Boss folded his fingers over each other and relaxed in his seat. "Anyway, my turn. I am the Boss, Emperor of the Saint Empire, I'm on the Council of 10 Calamities, which means _I outrank all of you_." He waved an accusatory finger around at everyone. "I'm a guns-expert, I can drive almost any vehicle I get in, I own a set of power armor I stole from the last fucker who crossed me before I ripped his head attached to his spinal cord out and stuffed it in a mounted shark head in my office." An audible gulp resounded from a few of the Agents present, mostly the GGs. "Also, I stockpiled a shitload of kinky stuff in the cargo, so if we wanna plan anything like that later down the line…"

"What kinda kinky stuff?" Jay called over the intercom. "If that's the kinda crap you're into…" The Boss groaned and kicked the wall of the ship.

"I meant for the mission, jackass!" The Boss shouted. "And don't think that just because I nearly broke my hand trying to nut-shot you, doesn't mean I won't do it again!"

"He probably will." Kinzie idly said, tapping away on her computer. "The Boss is… kinda stupid." The Boss shot the ginger girl an irritated glare. "It's an endearing kind of stupid." Somewhat satisfied with the answer, the Boss leaned back in his seat.

"And what about him?" Garterbelt asked, gesturing in Johnny Gat's direction, the normally silent and cool member of the Saint idly sharpening a knife on the side of his chair.

"Name's Johnny Gat." Gat said, not once stopping his sharpening. "Voted 'the Most Dangerous Man in existence' back where I'm from." Sparks littered the floor with every long scrape. "Killed hundreds of fuckers. Got Lucifer's Cracked Halo. Shot the Devil in the face. Considering joining the Executioners. Not much to say." Johnny paused a moment, glancing at the person sitting across from him, Beat, with an intent look behind his square sunglasses. In an instant, Johnny flicked his wrist and tossed the knife right near the goggled teen's head, impacting the wall just a few inches away from his right ear. "Saw a fly." Beat never once took his eyes off the knife, and at the small black stain on the blade where it impacted.

"I'd appreciate it if you _didn't_ put holes in my ship." Jay called out. "Hull patches are expensive, and I'd rather put that money towards space hookers and beer." Everyone gave a brief mutter of agreement while Beat yanked the knife out of the wall and tossed it back to Johnny, who resumed to sharpen it.

"Ahem, well, now, um," Beat stammered. "I guess my gang and I will go now." He cleared his throat and adjusted his goggles. "I'm Beat, one of the three leaders of the GGs. I work with my two best buds, Tab and Gum, to make the world a better, pretty place with more artwork."

"I'd hardly call that garish spray painting of yours 'artwork', young one." Zhang He objected, earning a few laughs from the more mature members of the group. Beat scoffed and pulled out a notepad and pencil, sketching a rapid picture on his pad. In less than three minutes, he finished the picture and turned to share it with everyone: an incredibly detailed and well-drawn picture of Zhang He standing in front of a butterfly, posing elegantly. It was… actually mildly impressive. "… I stand corrected, young one."

"Most of us GGs have the same amount of talent as College Art Students." Beat clarified, yanking the picture off his notepad and tossing it to Zhang He. "That's one of the three rules to get into the gang: Be talented at art, skate well, and love what you do." He kicked back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head and smirking proudly. "Everyone in the gang has their own talents. I'm a smooth skater, and slick artist, for instance." Next to him, Tab slugged him hard in the arm, causing Beat to yelp in pain and rub his shoulder while Tab laughed loudly.

"Yeah, but he can't take a punch!" Tab guffawed. "Name's Tab, I'm co-leader along with Beat and Gum. I'm not the fastest skater, but I've got skill with a spray can and take a beating no sweat!" A small wad of paper pinged off the side of Tab's head, eliciting a startled bark from the jumpsuit-wearing teen.

"But you're kinda easily startled." Gum pointed out, crumpling up a sheet of paper and tossing it at Tab's head. "Spooked by everything, and always the first one to dash when the heat's on." Gum blew a pink bubble, allowing it to pop with a loud bang. "I'm Gum, third leader of the GGs. I'm the best artist of the top brass, and pretty nimble. Although, I will admit I get kinda distracted from now and then…"

"Don't sell yourself short," Garam spoke up, idly cracking his knuckles. "You're good at what you do, and helped bring us all together." Gum blushed slightly and nodded her thanks to Garam. "So I'm Garam, one of the tougher guys in the gang."

"He's usually the kinda guy to punch the cops in the face when we get caught instead of bailing." Beat clarified. "Heck, he's saved my butt a few times, and man can he hit hard!" Garam smirked, tightening the wrappings on his arm.

"Considered taking up boxing as a kid." Garam said. Everyone looked at Mew, the perky girl lost in her own world as loud music blared out of her headset. "Mew's… something, to say the least. She's a great skater and can spray pretty well… She's just…"

"A few bullets short of an armory?" The Boss suggested.

"Not the strongest condom in the pack?" Panty added.

"A chipped arrow in the quiver?" Zhang He queried.

"Dumb as fuck?" The Baron said. Everyone shot him an angry look, while the muscular man simply held up his hands defensively. "What? I can't think of metaphors like you on the fly!"

"All four… so to speak." Garam said, leaning over to Mew and lightly shaking her shoulder, causing her headset to fall around her neck. She blinked a few times, getting her bearings about her.

"Oh, have we made it to the mall, yet?" Mew asked, innocent as a butterfly. The rest of the GGs groaned at her incompetence, while Yo-Yo leaned over and shouted in her ear.

"Yo, we told you a thousand times already!" Yo-Yo shouted loudly. "We're not going to the mall! We're going on a world-saving mission, yo!" Mew wobbled back and forth, disoriented by the assault on her ears, while Yo-Yo smirked and adjusted his 3D Glasses. "Yo, call me Yo-Yo, I'm a sweet skater and body blocker, plus I'm a wiz with technology and computers, yo."

"He ain't exaggerating." Tab piped up. "Yo-Yo built most of the stereos for our pad, added self-triggered nitro boosters to our skates, and built a robot suit for our dog." Tab blinked for a moment, realizing what he last said. "Wait, did we leave the dog behind?"

"Yo, no worries!" Yo-Yo said, dismissively waving his arm. "He's in the pet carrier I stuck with our luggage. Nothin' to worry about, yo." A faint barking sound was heard over the engine's roar, but nobody seemed to notice.

"My turn," Piranha said, fiddling with the brim of her hat. "I'm Piranha, the oldest of the gang and one of the top skaters. I used to be a big-time racer before I joined the GGs, so next to Garam and Combo, I'm the most athletic." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small golden sports medal. "Shibuya-Cho Skating Champ, three years running, suckers!"

"You're boasting again, Piranha." Cube droned, applying a shade of bluish-green lipstick to her lips. "That's Slate's bit. Anyway, I'm Cube. Combo and I flew from the States to sign on with the GGs after our friend was kidnapped by criminals. We've been on ever since." She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small lollipop and popped it in her mouth. "I've got a more unique taste compared to the rest of the gang, when it comes to art, but I'm still great, nonetheless."

"Nice to see someone else appreciates the Goth look." Stocking pipped up, shooting a glance at her sister. "Unlike some people…" Panty remained oblivious to the statement, distracted by a fly that buzzed about the cabin.

"Call me Combo." Combo spoke up, catching quite a few people off guard. "I'm a heavy hitter for the GGs, plus I got lovely _Annabelle_ here," He hefted his boom box on his shoulder. "To keep the mood going and the beats rockin'." He pressed the play button on the boom box and a steady beat began playing from the speakers, one clearly familiar to the GGs as they all rocked their heads to the flow. Heck, even the Baron and a few of the Saints joined in.

"This might work in my favor…" The Baron mused. "Ya don't mind if I lend you a few of my select mixes for later excursions?" Combo smirked, concluding with a nod before killing the music. "Alright, so… time for the angels and their meet-'n-greet?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Panty said, flipping through a magazine. "Stockin' and I…"

"HOLD UP!" Slate objected, nearly rising out of his seat. "You forgot about me, the Amazing Slate, the best of the best in the GGs! My artwork is unparalleled, my skills on skates are magnificent, and I'm just one amazing dude!" The large-nosed teen quickly realized everyone was completely ignoring him. "WHY ISN'T ANYONE LISTENING TO ME?!"

"So Stockin' and I are drop dead sexy and kill Ghosts with guns and swords." Panty explained. "I'm a sharpshooter while she's the swords-bitch. Plus, I've got the best moves in battle _and_ in bed." A few cat-calls got her attention, the blonde-haired angel smiling seductively. "Yeah, you fuckers know it!" Stocking ignored her sister and started eating from a bag of chips that had somehow appeared in her hands, while Garterbelt furrowed his brow.

"Just so ya know," Garterbelt said. "Ya ain't gonna be able to screw everything in sight, like you skanks usually do." Not only did Panty and Stocking throw a fit, but the Boss and Baron also got upset, hurling swears and insults at the afro-priest. "SUCK IT UP! If ya already forgot, we pull any sexual shit in public, we're going straight to a work camp. I'm none too pleased about it myself, but we can hold off on bustin' nuts until we complete the mission."

"And who the fuck are you to act all 'high and mighty', Father Afro?" Gat retorted, pointing at Garterbelt with his knife.

"The preacher of God's work that'll break his foot off in yo' ass if you keep flappin' your lip." Garterbelt threatened. "And don't even try and threaten me with wanton death, kid, because I've dealt with enough shit that'll make yo' head spin." He leaned back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. "Anyway, I'm Garterbelt, practical babysitter to the Anarchy bitches and man of God. The green dog thing is Chuck." He gestured to Chuck, who was scooting his butt on the ground while barking his name repeatedly. "That's all. Move on."

"Well, I suppose I might as well list off my talents, as minute as they be." Zhang He softly said. He was about to begin, only for the Boss to cut him off.

"Dude, you are a Dynasty Warrior," The Boss clarified. "You are a super-human killing machine from the second bloodiest period in human history, capable of insane super powers NONE OF YOU are aware you even have, and tend to be campier than a 1970s soap opera about Canadian summer camp kids." He paused to take a puff of smoke. "'Minute' is not something I'd describe any of you badasses." Zhang He sat in silence for a moment, both confused and shocked that he was cut off by the criminal emperor, but decided to live and let be while the Boss turned to face the Baron and Mathilda. "And we can skip over you two. Pretty much everyone knows who you are, what you do, and what you're capable of… including that weird cheating death thing." The Baron didn't violently retort, rather shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

"Hey, actually, about that cheating death thing you've got," Beat said. "Care to explain HOW you do that without being an immortal like Father Afro over there?"

"Oh, now that's an interesting thing," The Baron said, actually getting excited for once. "You see, I-." A loud roar washed over the area, drowning out the Baron's voice as he continued to speak and forcing everyone else to cover their ears from the auditory assault. After a solid five minutes of pure ear pain, the roaring ceased. "And that's my secret I will never say again."

"Sorry about that, folks." Jay called out. "Apparently a Void Whale passed by us. DAMN those bastards are huge. I mean, Space Whales are big and all, but holy SHIT that thing looked like it could eat five planets." A collective groan washed over most of the team, while the Baron seemed mildly oblivious to it. "Good news though, we're going to be exiting this trippy tunnel and come out… near the moon?"

"Yes Jay, the moon." Hamilton clarified.

"Heh, right." Jay chuckled. "Anyway, we're going to bring you in disguised as an airplane and land in the Tokyo Airport, where... eh…"

Hamilton sighed. "Where you guys will go through check-in and apply for citizenship."

"Right, right, right, right." Jay said. "Then you'll get those… um… censorship thingies that look like fancy bracelets and collars…"

"Peace Makers…" Hamilton enunciated.

"Pace markers!" Jay exclaimed. "To blend in with the populace. Then you'll find a place to set up base and contact us with coordinates and location." Jay leaned over to his co-pilot and whispered to him. "Did I forget anything?" Hamilton gave a deadpan stare to his best friend and simply shook his head no. "Nnnnnnice! Exiting the Gate… NOW!" The OGC-1 exited out of the vortex almost instantly, spitting the phallic ship out into the depths of space, in low orbit by the Earth's moon. Jay and Hamilton removed their goggles and prepped for landing near their target: Tokyo Airport in Japan.

"Engaging cloaking device." Hamilton announced, flipping the switch and causing the ship to become completely invisible. "And coming onto the planet."

"HA!" The Baron barked out. Hamilton furrowed his furry brow and grumbled, while the two pilots pointed the nose of the ship down. The OGC-1 began its rapid descent into the atmosphere of the planet, moving fast enough to not attract attention but slow enough not to rip apart upon entering. But the OGC-1 is a sturdy ship, one that had plowed through all sorts of troubles in deep space, from space crabs that threatened the rip the engines apart to even recovering from an extreme cannon overheating malfunction. Nothing short of an abrupt obstruction could stop this fine vessel. The ship entered the Earth's atmosphere and broke through the cloud barrier, with their target in sight.

"Japan, dead ahead!" Jay announced, the passengers cheering in excitement. "Nothing's stopping us now!" Hamilton furrowed his brow, looking at the strange large boats within the area.

"Yeah, except I see a bunch of Order Battleships docked in the harbor…" Hamilton pointed out. The Order of Purity, despite pretty much keeping to themselves, lacks a great deal of subtly and keeping itself secretive in the open. As such, a majority of their transports, vehicles, and even troops, stand out easily with their bright uniforms displaying the crest of a winged sword proudly and their smooth and reflective ships. These Battleships that appear to have Japan completely blockaded gleam with a silver lining and sport a wide array of futuristic Anti-Air weaponry that the people of this universe no doubt didn't have. Not to mention they were gigantic compared to the already large Japanese ships docked as well. Normally, they'd pose a huge problem, especially since the OGC-1 was not properly shielded against such high firepower, but the cloaking device hid them from enemy eyes.

"Eh, don't sweat it, buddy." Jay reassured his co-pilot. "They don't see us, so we're in the clear." Hamilton smiled at his partner's reassurance, while the spacecraft steadily came in towards Japan proper. "Tokyo airport, dead ahead!" Zooming in, the ship finally pulled in to the airstrip of Tokyo Airport, narrowly dodging several oncoming planes and finally landing on a part just out of the way so no one could see them, the phallic interstellar traveler coming to a halt and dropping on the ground. "WE MADE IT!" The entire team let out in a triumphant cheer, although most of them were still a little disoriented from the flight. It was a rough journey, but now they've finally made it.

* * *

One by one, the Agents exited the still cloaked ship, prepping themselves for the next part of their mission. Once everyone had exited, the OCG-1 took off to a more secure location, with Jay and Hamilton giving them instructions to find a remote place for a base of operations so they can come around and bring their supplies. Without much more to do, the Agents snuck their way through security and arrived at Customs. Much to their surprise, there was less security than expected, but a surplus of troops wearing white uniforms and white hats that that no-doubt meant they were part of this alleged 'Peace Maker Patrol'. Luckily, they paid no heed to the mildly unusual group of people making their way to apply for citizenship, and the Agents just waltzed right in. Before going up to register for citizenship, everyone quickly checked to see if their IDA Medallions were still functioning after the rickety ride there. IDA Medallions, aside from being identifiers of being members of the Universal Power, also are multi-purpose tools usable by Agents and Officials in the field, with such uses as compasses, GPS, distress beacons, and translators, the latter most being used to help both understand foreign languages and speak them with ease. Once everything was set up, the Baron stood up to the counter, looming over the young woman running the application desk.

"Hey, is this where Ah can apply for citizenship?" The Baron asked, startling the young woman who thought that the sun had blotted out whilst in the Baron's shadow.

"Um… y-y-yes sir." The young woman stammered. The Baron noticed that she, like a majority of the people here, had odd metallic collars around their necks and wrists, some more uniquely customized than others. So these were the illustrious Peace Makers that Zedekiah was so pissy about. "I-i-i-if you want to apply for citizenship, y-y-you'll need to go over these papers." She reached behind her desk and drops this small stack of papers and a pen in front of the Baron. No doubt the forms asking for why he wanted to stay there and what his criminal record was, stuff he and the others could easily bluff through or forge. "Oh, and we'll have to ask you to come with us for PM fitting." That made the Baron stop his writing, looking back at the little woman behind his sunglasses. Sighing, he put the pen down and put his massive hands on both sides of the desk.

"Now, that's actually a thing that's been bugging me." The Baron said, the rest of the Agents closing near their partner in future crime. "These 'Peace Maker' doo-dads…" The woman nodded her head frantically, slightly scared by the Baron's gruff demeanor. "Ah've been hearin' stuff about how they… force folks to censor themselves…" A few of the security guards had taken notice of this abrupt behavior and kept their eyes close on the exchange between the two. The woman nodded, so the Baron continued. "Yeah, I thought so…. The thing about that is…." Suddenly, the Baron's golden gauntlet hand shot forth and grabbed the woman by the collar of her shirt, bringing her face to face with the pissed off pimp. "WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE NOT WANT TO FUCKIN' SWEAR OR SAY SHIT LIKE THAT?!" All around, guards had pulled out firearms and aimed them at the Baron. In retaliation, each of the Agents prepped themselves for combat, with the Saints pulling out small firearms like pistols and SMGs, the GGs taking up fist-fighting positions and keeping steady on their skates, Panty had her glowing gun pulled out while Stocking drew one of her swords (the trained eye would notice that one of her leg stockings was suddenly absent once she did), and Zhang He was suddenly armed with a set of extremely long and elegant claw-blades. The only ones who didn't move where Mathilda, who looked at the Baron with amusement, and Garterbelt, who simply stood still and vigilant.

"Let the woman go and come quietly!" A PMC official yelled out.

"Please help! He's a madman!" The poor woman screamed, tears running down her cheeks. The Boss slowly moved up against the Baron's back, getting in close enough to whisper to the bounty hunter.

"Dude, as much as I think this plan is awesome," The Boss stage-whispered. "Did you plan on how to get out of here without us being in handcuffs?"

"Don't worry, G," The Baron whispered back, a smirk worming its way onto his face. "Ah have the best plan ever." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a golden CD case. "Tell Combo to blast Track 17 at eleven. We gon' boogie our asses outta here." The Boss examined the CD, shrugged, and made his way to the fight ready Combo, instructions at the ready.

"Baron says play Track 17 at max volume." The Boss whispered, handing Combo the disk. Combo, not entirely getting the plan, simply shrugged, popped the CD into his boom-box, tuned it to the right track, and pushed play. Almost instantly, a loud, booming rap song burst from the speakers, startling pretty much everyone in the area, including a few of the Agents. As the music rang through the air, the Baron bobbed his shoulders to the beat, tensed his muscles, and let it out.

"Trust me, son!" The Baron called out over the roar of the music. "You don't really want it! You step up…" With all his might, the Baron threw the woman at a bunch of PMCs, knocking them all down on the ground. "YOU WILL GET BEAT DOWN!" He pounded his fists together, ignited them in flames as a pair of golden eagle statues burst from the backs. "Check." The Agents immediately dispersed, attacking indiscriminately and clearing out the room of any guards and civilians, while the Baron was having the time of his life.

" _I'm strong-arming them, bomb harder,_

 _And slaughter the common men!_

 _Conquering all combatants compliments,_

 _Of my dominance,_

 _My prominence leaving them petrified."_ The Baron swung his fist into a group of PMCs, sending them all flying while the Saints unloaded their guns into everything, while bystanders ran for their lives from the 'mad terrorists'.

" _They get the consequence,_

 _Of stepping high, their opulence is set aside._

 _My providence gets rectified._

 _Check it, I'm the baddest man alive!"_ PMCs flew overhead from a roundhouse kick by Piranha, Garam and Combo skated side to side and bashing their attackers.

" _Damage planets with a jab a savage beast,_

 _Will not survive!_

 _I'm the king set to swing,_

 _On any thinking of crossing me,_

 _Next to blink gets a loss to me,_

 _Set them deep in a coffin,_

 _Feet below the earth,_

 _Underground my stomping ground,_

 _Hearts will drown when I'm in town!_

 _Rocking the ground!_

 _With shock just by walking around._

 _May they never rest in peace,_

 _But may I rest on them,_

 _An inaudible requiem hit hard,_

 _To the chest of them."_ Panty stood against Pierce's back, the two firing their pistols into the crowd, blasting them back and even pinning them down, while Stocking picked off any that they missed.

 _"I beckon them, WHO WANT IT?_

 _Standing on a mountain peak,_

 _As the blood of my enemies drip,_

 _From my fist to the heap at my feet,_

 _They wanted beef,_

 _They're getting ground into oblivion!_

 _The synonym of sinister,_

 _Their end is what I'm giving them!"_ The agents regrouped near a doorway, their exit blocked by over two dozen PMCs, each carrying stun-sticks and firearms. This would normally be problematic, but these guys were MEANT to handle these kinds of problems.

" _Yo who want it?!"_ Everyone shouted, the Baron bursting through the crowd while Mathilda swung her spiked energy bat into whoever he missed.

" _Knuckles clenched,_

 _Blood drenched, kid!"_ Zhang He soared over the guards, twirling in an elegant spin as he slashed at his foes below, knocking them clear unconscious as he gracefully landed.

 _"Yo who want it?!"_ Garterbelt clocked one guard in the face with his elbow, snatching his stun-stick and zapping another guard in the neck.

" _Come stepping hungry get fed!_

" _Yo who want it?!"_ The Boss power-slid under a line of guard, fist held up and smashing each and every one of them in the junk.

 _"Hearing all the challenges call:_

 _Thru the battles and brawls,_

 _I stand and they fall,_

 _As I hand them they jaw!"_ The Baron punched one guard in the face so hard, he flew through the glass window and landed outside. The others stopped and saw they were standing over a parking lot filled with cars. The same idea popped in their heads, as everyone jumped out of the window and near three large trucks. The Boss, Shaundi, and Pierce all worked on hotwiring the trucks while everyone piled in equally, while the PMCs chased after them. The engines roared with ignition, and everyone wasted no time in getting the hell out of there, evading the barrage of bullets coming their way. Once they had pulled far away enough, everyone let out a triumphant cheer.

"That was fuckin' awesome!" The Boss shouted, his hands gripped behind the steering wheel, while the Baron rode shotgun. "How'd ya know that plan would work?"

"Ah didn't." The Baron admitted. "Thought it would be an awesome thing to do, and Ah decided 'fuck it'!" A few of the more sane members grumbled at how utterly insane and reckless that was, but the Baron was right. It was awesome.

"Well, if we wanted to give the Order of Purity the middle finger already," Pierce called out, his truck pulling alongside the Boss'. "We sure as hell gave them somethin'." What Pierce said rang in the Baron's ears. An idea sparked in his head, and the Baron decided to go with it.

"Ah just thought of somethin'!" The Baron announced. "The name of our unit! All the IDA teams have names, like the Executioners, Team FireSoul, the Rising Stars, so what about us? Ah say we call ourselves 'Middle Finger'!"

"Middle Finger?" Beat asked, trying to keep steady inside the truck compartment as he and the others were being jostled around. "Why that?"

"Because we're objecting in a lewd and rude fashion to the bitches in the government and Order of Purity." The Baron explained, extending his own bird. "We are the Middle Finger to society." It sort of made sense, most of them thought, and a few sounds of agreement escaped everyone's lips.

"Sounds almost fitting, I'd say." Garterbelt said.

"A bit crass, but I find it marvelous you came up with that." Zhang He purred, checking his fingers for dirt.

"Fuck it, let's do it!" The Boss exclaimed. Everyone else gave whoops of cheers, even extending their own middle fingers. Mathilda looked at the Baron, giving him a knowing smile as he stuck his arm out the window and gave the bird for all to see.

"YA HEAR THAT, JAPAN?!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "WE ARE MIDDLE FINGER, AND WE DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU SAY ABOUT DECENT MORALS! WE ARE GONNA TAKE YO' LAWS AND SHOVE THEM RIGHT UP YOUR ASS! AM I RIGHT?!" Cheer and whoops rang out along the highway as the three trucks drove off into the sunset, ready to begin the mission to determine the fate of the world itself.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hello everyone. Apologies that things have taken so long to update, but with a majority of the IDA staff on vacation, it's only up to myself, two other authors and one editor to get this done. But here it is. Expect more along the way, including theft, robbery, assault, and another kickass number in the future. Until then, enjoy!_

 _~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask_

* * *

 **CREATIVE CONSULTANT'S NOTE:** **Jay, Hamilton, and the OGC-1 are from the web-series** _ **'Deep Space 69',**_ **and Hedonism Bot is from the animated television show '** _ **Futurama',**_ **and the now permanent setting of our story is in the Anime** _ **'Shimoneta: The World Where the Concept of Dirty Jokes Doesn't Exist'. The song used in this chapter was "Jaw" by muzeOne.**_

 _ **-IDA Official, Creative Consultant Red Rider**_

* * *

STORY RECOMMENDATION: _Our newest recommendation for a great story is_ "The Equestrian Wind Mage" _by Lord Siravant. Probably one of the most BADASS crossovers (between Legend of Zelda and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) I've ever read, this story is awesome and intense, and even manages to tug at a few heartstrings. Check it out and give the genius writer some recognition for his amazing work!_


	5. Interlude

**Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location…**

* * *

"The airport was attacked; you say?" A calm, tired voice echoed through the darkened office room. Within, a lone figure sat on a dark chair behind a fine desk, the blinders shut behind him and lights dimmed low. He wore a clean-pressed suit, blue necktie, and sported neatly combed back black hair. Around his neck was a PM designed like a shield with a winged sword atop… a symbol belonging to only one organization. "How many culprits? Twenty-two?" The man had leaned back into his chair, going over a conversation with the PMCs about the latest incursion, what with having to deal with other nonsense like SOX and Moist Throng and what have you. "Okay, they assaulted at least… thirty officers and civilians, made a getaway in three stolen cargo trucks, and declared their name… which was what again?" The man furrowed his brow, glaring harshly at the holographic communications of his PM. "Middle Finger… not the most original name out there, but still, this makes them one of the newer Naughty Terrorist Organizations to trouble us, maybe even a new criminal organization…" He paused for a moment, allowing for the speaker to continue. "Yes, I understand the situation. Put out an all tabs bulletin on this 'Middle Finger', primarily for assault charges and attempted murder." The speaker on the end of the line concluded with a sound of agreement. "Perfect. Lawrence out." Lawrence hung up on the call and leaned back in his seat, moaning quietly as he rubbed his temples to cancel out his newest headache, unaware that someone else had entered the room.

"New troubles are afoot; I take it?" Said a wizened man's voice. Lawrence looked up and saw a man dressed in elegant white and green oriental robes enter, his long black hair pinned together by a small crown, spindly fingers combing through his slightly pointed long black beard, whilst his hand rested on a gorgeous large green and white feathered fan. Lawrence leaned forward in his seat, staring tiredly at his fellow Order associate.

"Indeed, Zhuge Liang…" Lawrence said. "A new Naughty Terrorist Organization is forming, called Middle Finger. They're apparently more violent than the others, given that they attacked the airport and shot up the place." Zhuge Liang quirked an eyebrow, striding towards his ally's desk. "I just got off the phone with the on-the-scene detective, he should be sending a report on their faces in a moment." A ping alerted him on his PM, signaling the photos arrivals. "Ah, and here they are." Lawrence pulled up the photos of the twenty-two new terrorists, each one looking unique and unusual, unlike anyone this place had seen before… except for these two. Zhuge Liang's eyes fell on a certain dancing individual, armed with bladed claws, posed amidst attacking a guard.

"That's Zhang He…" Zhuge Liang softly said, almost in shock. "Why is a fellow Dynasty Warrior, let alone Zhang He, working with Naughty Terrorists?"

"That's not all, dear friend." Lawrence said, growling at the photos. "I recognize most of these faces… They're all IDA Agents." He focused mostly on the image of the Black Baron, fists ablaze with fire while the still photo showed him pounding a PMC's head in. "This can only mean one thing…" He stowed away the photos, reached into his desk and pulled out a concealed file, marked with the Symbol of the Order atop the words 'CONFIDENTIAL'. "They're aware we are here. Either that, or they know something about Operation Redemption _._ " He slid the file over to Zhuge Liang, the wise Shu Strategist opening the file and examining the contents with intent. "This could be VERY bad, especially if they know about Operation Redemption." Liang put the file down, idly drumming his fingers along the grip of his fan. "What would you suggest we do?" Liang strolled around the office, pulling his long sleeve back and activating the holographic display on his PM.

"We shouldn't act too hasty at the moment." Zhuge Liang said. "If we make them too high of a priority, not only will they find it suspicious, but so will the local government if we mark several people who appeared out of nowhere as criminals. No, we need to play the long game to properly catch our quarry." He pulled up the very images of the IDA Agents, viewing them carefully. "I suggest listing them as mere petty criminals. Let them build themselves the image of 'big bad' without us vilifying them. And when they do…" He chuckled darkly, deactivating his PM computer. "Then we ensnare them."

"Very well. I'll alert Onishima of our next plans." Lawrence proclaimed. "Your advice has yet to fail me or our brothers in Purity. Dismissed." Liang bowed and walked out of the room, leaving the government official alone in his awesome. Lawrence idly ran a finger along his PM around his neck, sighing to himself. "This will be a _very_ interesting development."

* * *

 _Author's Note: HIDDEN INTERLUDE STARRING OUR ANTAGONISTS! ENJOY!_

 _~IDA Official, Head Writer Mask_


	6. Chapter 4: That's Enough

**Chapter Four: "That's Enough"**

* * *

Once they were certain they had evaded the authorities, the newly anointed naughty terrorist/crime syndicate Middle Finger began their next big step: locate a base of operations. They spent a solid hour driving around in the trucks until coming across a blocked off side road leading into a nearby forest. Curiosity got the better of them, and after the Baron tore down the stone blockade with his fists, the three trucks drove down the road. Eventually, they uncovered a clearing deep within the woods, and at the center was a rather sizeable sky scrapper that seemed to have been long abandoned. It was a tall, faint yellow building, around ten stories, and appeared to have been around for ages. There was no sign on the outside to offer any explanation, so the team decided to go inside and investigate. Surprisingly, the inside of the building was pretty lavish and lax, if not a little dirty. The Agents had found themselves standing in a faint purple and pink lobby of what seemed to be a hotel, with heart-shaped chairs and sofas scattered around aged wooden tables, all filled with cobwebs and dust. The Boss and Shaundi went over to a desk at the center of the room that displayed a large set of cabinets, each numbered and lettered and holding a small key within. The conclusion as to where they stood was obvious.

"Yeah, this is a rundown, abandoned love hotel." Shaundi concluded. Everyone had already gone to explore the place while Shaundi examined some old papers. "Says it used to be called the _'Koibito no Hōyō_ Hotel'."

"Must've been shut down when the Public Morals laws were put in place." The Boss mused, examining the cupboard full of keys. "Makes sense that these places would be the first to go… And makes even more sense that we set up shop here." The Boss laughed triumphantly, holding a golden key sporting a purple tag in his hand. "And _I_ call the penthouse room." Almost immediately after the words left his mouth, a golden fist collided with the Boss' face and the key landed in the Baron's open palm.

"Bitch, like HELL you're getting the penthouse suite." The Baron shouted. "Ah'm taking that room, and none of y'all are gonna stop me." Clearly nobody was satisfied with that, because Stocking ran up and roundhouse kicked the Baron in his head, knocking him over a heart-shaped couch.

"Please, if anyone deserves the penthouse room," Stocking boasted, twirling the key around her finger. "It should be me." This time, Panty ran up and tried snatching the key from her sister.

"Fuck that, you skank!" Panty shouted, flailing her arms wildly. "Gimme the fucking key!" Soon, it was a mess of four people with the mentality of five-year-old children beating the snot out of each other for a stupid key. Eventually, the key flew out of everyone's hands and wound up in the hands of Beat. The red-headed teen was about to take off, but one look from Tab and Gum told him to back off, so Beat crestfallenly handed the key to the most responsible person in the room: Garterbelt. Garterbelt thanked Beat and walked over to the fighting Agents.

"KNOCK YOUR SHIT OFF!" Garterbelt shouted, slamming a karate chop on each of the four Agents' heads, sending them sprawling on the ground and dazed. "Look, if all y'all idiots wanna fight over who gets the damn penthouse suite, then we'll settle this like _adults_." The Boss, the Baron, Panty and Stocking all reluctantly nodded, folding their arms and glaring at Garterbelt as he stuffed the key in his afro. "Whoever does their shit done to the letter gets the room, got it?!" He was met with simultaneous nodding. Satisfied, Garterbelt walked off to do his own thing. Finally, Zhang He stood up and danced over to the counter.

"Well, with that out of the way," Zhang He softly said, pulling out his IDA Medallion and placing it on the counter. "We'd best contact Base Prime to inform them of our situation." He tapped the 'A' on the center of the medallion, causing a faint blue light to emit from it. "Contact Base Prime's Intelligence Office."

" _Commencing application, Agent Zhang He."_ A computerized feminine voice said from the medallion. The Agents gathered around the desk as a large blue holographic beam shot up from the medallion, shimmering as it projected the form of a humanoid figure. The beam finally molded into a discernable form: a tall man with fiery hair, wearing a suit, thick-lensed glasses, gloves, and smoking a cigarette.

"Agent Cinder, High-Ranking Chaos Agent, speaking." Said the hologram. The response was a unanimous negative groan. NOBODY wanted to deal with this asshat, and in response, the asshat didn't want to deal with them either. "Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, you have to deal with the one Agent in the IDA who DOESN'T LIKE HIS JOB for the next month. I don't wanna put up with you dickwads either, but because it's in my fucking contract, I have no choice. So TOO FUCKING BAD, TWAT-BAGS!" Agent Cinder fumed loudly while the Agents calmed themselves, standing in an orderly cluster. "Alright… So, I'm the Agent you'll report to for the duration of this mission, and in turn, I'll figure out how bad you screw up and give you objectives for your missions… Which I assume you'll ultimately fuck up." The holographic projection produced a pen and notepad. "So… Tell me what you did today."

"Well, for starters," The Boss said, folding his arms across his chest. "We got at the airport and shot… A lot of people." Cinder barely looked up from his notepad when he heard that, almost as if he was _expecting_ this to happen. "Then we found this abandoned Love Hotel and we're making this our base. That's about it." Cinder sighed, finishing up his notes and pressing a finger to the bridge of his nose.

"Okay… So you _did_ fuck up." Cinder grumbled. "Because you idiots attacked the place, that makes you all wanted criminals… Plus, I'm assuming none of you acquired PMs to blend in with the populace." The silent response was all the evidence he needed. "Knew it…" He put the notepad inside the confines of his suit and sighed. "Alright, I'll run your fuck ups through the system and contact you in a bit. Until then, I'd HIGHLY suggest getting this base of yours up and running and contact the OGC-1 for equipment care. Have Captain Jay contact me when you're done. Agent Cinder out." The hologram deactivated and Zhang He's medallion turned back to normal, allowing the Wei Warrior to pick it up and return it to his person.

"You heard the flaming-haired jerkoff," Garterbelt said, clapping his hands together. "We gotta make sure this place is up to stuff. The Angels and I will go to the roof and get that flying space penis to land." Panty and Stocking lazily nodded while Chuck chewed on his tail.

"Agree one-hundred percent." Beat said, skating around in circles. "The GGs and I will get this place all tidied up. Maybe give this place a new coating of paint." The other GGs chuckled, plucking spray cans off their belts.

"The Saints will patrol the perimeter," The Boss said, straightening his tie. "While I go and see if the bar's intact." Shaundi walked over and smacked the back of the Boss' head. "SHIT! Fine, I'll patrol with you guys, jeez…" Shaundi gave a satisfied huff and walked back to the others.

"Then that just leaves Zhang He, Mathilda, and yours truly to…" The Black Baron started off, gesturing with his hands for someone to continue the line of thought. "Do something…"

"Do whatever you can to help out around here." Garterbelt instructed. "Or at least stay outta our hair."

"With an ugly mess you call a 'do," The Baron muttered. "Ah'd say that's fuckin' impossible." Mathilda snickered at the Baron's comment, only laugh even harder when Garterbelt backhanded the Baron on the back of his head when passing, sending the muscular pimp on the floor. "Oh bitch, you goin' to get yours if y'all don't shut yer trap." While Mathilda helped the Baron to his feet, the Boss stood atop the desk and made the final announcement.

"Alright, we all know what to do, so let's get it done!" The Boss shouted. "BREAK!" And thus, the Agents of Middle Finger dispersed, each doing his or her own thing all over their newfound home, one little piece at a time, while Combo left his boom-box behind and played a song at random, allowing everyone around to listen and enjoy.

* * *

The GGs had split themselves up into pairs to cover more ground in cleaning and simply exploring the hotel… while adding a few of their own hallmarks on the side. Extremely happy that the elevators were working, most of the gang started exploring the other floors, surprised at how utterly massive the Koibito Hotel was, with at least twenty rooms per floor, which were all thankfully unlocked. While Beat and Tab checked out a few messy and abandoned guest rooms, each sporting an aged pinkish bed, heart-shaped table lamps, wooden night stands, dusty lounging beds, and the same ugly and peeling red floral wallpaper, Beat kept on examining the walls every now and then.

"Y'know, I'm surprised that this old building is still standing," Beat remarked. "What with all the holes in the walls." Tab curiously turned to his co-leader, seeing him peering through a large circular hole in the wall near the lounging beds. "I mean, there's one in every room the size of a softball!" The two teens peered down the hole, spotting another one in the room adjacent… and in the room after that, and the room after that, and the room after that. After several doors down, Beat and Tab quickly turned away before they got any headaches.

* * *

Garam and Mew idly skated down the halls, with the blue-haired girl once again in her own little world listening to some peppy pop song on her music while Garam occasionally sprayed tough and angular sprays on the wall. It was a quiet jaunt, but a peaceful one at that. Mew gracefully skated about to the tune of her music, idly drawing a light blue line of the wall with various flourishes and swirls when she accidentally tripped over a lump in the carpet, sending her stumbling to the ground into an odd pile of small wrapped parcels. Garam noticed his friend's fall and quickly skated over, pulling her to her feet.

"Woo, thanks Garam." Mew said, a small smile appearing on her blue lips. Garam said nothing and simply skated onwards, while Mew took a sudden interest in the weird wrapped goodies. While Garam skated down the hall, finding a perfect spot for a nice canvas and prepping a green and black spray can, Mew immediately sped down the hall, a wide smile on her face as she oddly held a pink balloon animal of a dog in her hand. "Garam! Garam! I made balloon animals!" Garam paused his work for a moment, glancing at Mew's odd little art project. "Isn't it just the cutest thing?"

"… Mew, where did you get the balloons?" Garam asked, his eyes narrowing behind his yellow lenses. Mew excitedly pointed at the pile of wrappers she had fallen into.

"Over where I fell!" Mew proudly exclaimed. "They were in these teeny cute little wrappers. Some were a little bigger than others, but I can make even better balloon animals with them!" Garam's face at the moment was an unreadable wall, not a single twinge gave way to his thoughts barreling through his head. So instead, he casually skated to Mew, snatched the balloon dog, and violently stomped on it until it popped. "HEY! What gives?!" All Garam did was scrap his skate on the wall, wiping the odd goopy fluid off, and pressed a finger to Mew's lips.

"Do not tell anyone about that." Garam ordered, and skated off down the hall. Mew puffed her cheeks out and huffed, following after her muscular friend, inwardly grinning at her genius while she hid the rest of her purloined balloons in her spray can carrier. Truly the work of a genius in action, so genius that she skated into a wall without realizing it. Truly genius.

* * *

"I think…" Panty muttered, laying down on the rooftops of the Hotel next to her sister. "That cloud looks like a pair of tits." Garterbelt and Chuck had been setting up the beacon to attract the OGC-1, while the two angels had decided to simply pick out lewd shapes in clouds, and somehow decided to make a contest out of it. A contest that Stocking was winning.

"Meh, maybe a pair of saggy grannie tits." Stocking snickered, pointing at another cloud. "But _that_ cloud looks like a chick going spread eagle." Panty squinted at the aforementioned cloud in the sky, and it definitely matched the description her goth sister gave. "Five points for me!" Panty playfully slugged her sister in the shoulder and shared a laugh.

"Heh, you bitch." The blonde angel laughed. "That one… DEFINITELY looks like a cock 'n balls. That raincloud over there." Stocking narrowed her eyes at the rapidly increasing raincloud that indeed looked like a phallus… A little too much like one.

"Hey, Panty," Stocking pointed out. "I don't think that's a cloud." A harsh breeze kicked up across the rooftops as Garterbelt stood beside the active beacon, watching as the encroaching shadow of the OGC-1 loomed overhead. "Should we move?"

"Yeah, we probably should." Panty responded. Immediately the two scrambled to their feet and got out of the way as the phallic ship gradually came to a landing. Once secured atop the roof, the OGC-1 lowered its landing pad and allowed the crew to exit.

"Man, you have no idea how long we were circling the atmosphere!" Captain Jay joked, stretching his arms a bit. "So… This is the dump we're making for our base?"

"It'll look better once everyone gets their asses in gear." Garterbelt responded. "Our good fuck-wad Agent Cinder requested that we contact him as soon as you show up." Jay and Hamilton walked over with smirks on their faces.

"Well let's get to it then!" Jay said. "No use standing around with our thumbs up our asses." As Jay, Hamilton, Panty, and Stocking walked down the stairs from the roof, Garterbelt pulled out a communicator and tuned in to the patrolling Saints. "Garterbelt here, Jay showed up. Let's regroup in the lobby to call Cinder back."

"Yeah, sure, we'll get to it." Johnny Gat responded over the line. "Although… It _might_ take a while." Before Garterbelt could ask for an explanation, Johnny beat him to the punch. "We were checking the perimeter for a while when the Boss found some mushrooms growing in a patch. Shaundi and Pierce told him those were the same kind the get you shit-faced high… And now…."

"I AM THE VERMIN KING!" The sound of the Boss shouting in the distance echoed across the woods. Garterbelt looked down into the forest and saw, running like a madman with his limbs flailing about, _au natural_ , was the Boss. "TO ME, GERBILS AND FLIES, WE SHALL GALAVANT LIKE PIXIES AND SHIT ON DANE VOGUL'S DESK!"

"… Why is he naked?" Garterbelt asked.

"He lost his clothes after the second mushroom." Johnny casually explained. "Don't worry, Shaundi and Pierce are chasing after him. We'll bring him back once he comes down."

"From the high or the tree?" Garterbelt remarked, watching the scenario unfold before him.

"Ah shit." Johnny swore before finally hanging up. Garterbelt pocketed his communicator and allowed himself a rare chuckle. Sure, the people on this team were either, stupid, crazy, or overly dangerous in a public situation, but with their combined skill, they could probably move mountains. After a moment's pause, Garterbelt glanced down at his feet, where Chuck lay down, the green dog-thing nibbling on his rear with apathetic boredom.

"Shit's gonna get real interesting, Chuck." Garterbelt said. "I just know it." Silence rang out between the two for a while… until Garterbelt casually kicked Chuck off the building, sending him flying to the ground. "Got real sappy there. Needed to change the mood."

* * *

"Everyone here?" Garterbelt asked once everyone was gathered in the lobby. "Alright, Jay, you know the drill."

"Gotcha, Father Afro." Jay cheekily said, removing his IDA Medallion and placing it on the table. "Patch me through to Agent Cinder at the Intel Office." The medallion flashed blue and beeped in confirmation.

" _Commencing application, Captain Jay._ " The Medallion responded. In a matter of seconds, the holographic display went up and reintroduced the Agents to their intel officer, in all his smug jackassery as he leaned back in a comfy office chair.

"Wow, took a lot shorter than I expected." Cinder rudely stated, his smile clenching tightly on a lit cigarette. "I'm surprised I haven't gotten a report about one of you idiots getting their dicks in an electrical outlet."

"Shut the fuck up, you flame-y haired douche." The Boss retorted, still a little woozy from his high. "Jay's here, now you tell us what we need to do now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Cinder casually said. "Alright, so first thing's first: Get yourselves out of criminal record. That stunt you all pulled at the airport means your faces are all over the government records, and they _will_ arrest you on sight." Cinder swiveled his chair about to look at the Saints. "Matt, Kenzie, you two are phenomenal hackers, so hack into the Network, wipe the database, and everything will be so much easier."

"Piece of cake." Kenzie said as Matt gave a silent nod.

"Yo, I can help too!" Yo-Yo interjected, skating between the two Saints. "My tech and hacking skills are through the dang roof, Yo!" Cinder only stared back blankly.

"… I don't speak jive. TRANSLATE?" Cinder exclaimed. Piranha sighed and skated over to Yo-Yo's side and slinging an arm around the green hooded teen.

"He's great at working technology and computers." Piranha defended. "He can help the Saints with the hacking." The tall skater lifted her leg up and pointed to her intricate skates. "Yo-Yo actually modified all of our skates with Nitro Boosters and compatibility upgrades with any augment tech the IDA companies push out." She casually slugged Yo-Yo on the shoulder. "A little data hacking is nothin' for this punk."

"Alright, fine, whatever." Cinder casually said. "Item number two: Get yourselves some damn PMs. Since you didn't get those at the airport, you're already standing out like a bunch of sore thumbs. My advice is to go out and steal a shipment of un-registered PMs and take 'em back to base. Do whatever you want with them when you acquire them, maybe even get a few in bulk in case you shmucks need backup."

"Why the hell would we need backup?" The Baron asked, folding his massive arms. "We can handle this shit all on our own easy!"

"Yeah, but what if the Order decides to send in big guns?" Cinder retorted, a smirk evident on his face. "Like they have Purification Beams or decide to send in one of their overcompensating warships? I doubt you guys can handle that, even with a Chaos Leader and Dynasty Warrior on your side." The Agents grumbled, but ultimately conceded. "That, and if you fuck up beyond belief, we can just send in the Executioners for cleanup."

"THAT won't be necessary!" The Boss proclaimed, immediately sobering up. "No need to have the, um, Executioners get involved." Everyone, except apathetic Johnny Gat, nodded vigorously. Last thing any IDA Agent wanted to deal with were the Executioners, and Cinder knew it, a smile threatening to encompass his face.

"Glad to see we're on the same page." Cinder said. "Last thing I can really suggest is to make yourselves known as Naughty Terrorists. Do whatever you sick fucks can come up with to bring perversion back to the people."

"Spray paint nudes on the sides of buildings?" Tab suggested.

"If people can see it." Cinder responded.

"Disperse sex objects and blow-up dolls?" Pierce asked.

"If they don't get confiscated."

"Start up a speakeasy for strippers?" Panty thought up.

"Whatever works best."

"Film porn?" The Baron casually asked. Everyone simply turned and stared at him with a mixture of shock and mild disgust, even Cinder had lost his smirk and replaced it with a blank-eyed stare. "What? I'm a fuckin' pimp, what else do y'all expect?!"

"Um… Sure, I guess." Cinder said, attempting to regain his composure. "So just do all that and call me back in… I dunno, a week or so." Cinder wheeled around in his chair for no apparent reason. "Keep me posted with weekly updates and I'll try and muster up the will to give you dipshits a sense of direction. Got it?" A confirmation of a few 'yes sirs' and 'up yours' returned. "Perfect. Cinder out!" The hologram vanished and left Jay's medallion in an inactive state once more.

"Okay, so Matt, Yo-Yo and I will hole up somewhere and get to hacking." Kinzie said, gesturing for the two to follow. "We'll call you guys up on the Medallions when we make a breakthrough. C'mon guys." Matt and Yo-Yo followed the Ex-FBI Agent down a hallway to get to work.

"Who's going to get to stealing the PMs?" Shaundi asked. Almost immediately, Beat shot his hand up with an eager smile.

"I volunteer that me and a few of the GGs go after the PMs." Beat proclaimed, turning to his comrades in arms. "Who want to go have some fun?" Out of the group, only Gum and Garam skated out, the former looking mildly intrigued while the latter's face betrayed no emotion.

"Could be fun, could be dangerous." Gum said, blowing a pink bubble. "Still, what's life without risk?"

"You'll need a lot of muscle for this. I'm in." Garam said, cracking his knuckles.

"Sweet!" Beat proclaimed, pumping his fist. "We'll do it!"

"Yeah, but you guys definitely need some backup if the Order catches you." Panty spoke up, dragging her sister forward as she munched on a chocolate bar. "We got yo' backs."

"Beats sitting around here and doing nothing." Stocking muttered. With that primary bit of business taken care of, the five left the building and the remaining members of Middle Finger were left to their lonesome.

"So… Who wants to help me set up the stripper poles?" The Boss suggested. "Got a whole crate full of them stored on the OGC-1." A few lazy agreements followed, leaving the Baron and a few of the GGs on their lonesome.

"Eh, Ah'm gonna take a walk outside." The Baron said. "Stretch my legs 'n all that shit." With that all said and done, the Baron walked out the front door while everyone else went about their own business. In about five minutes, the remaining members of Middle Finger were on the rooftop, unloading wooden crate after wooden crate from the OGC-1's spherical storage chambers, all bearing purple Saint emblems.

"And these all have stripper poles in them?" Combo asked, helping Cube heft a rather large box. The Boss, carting a large crate on his own, set the package down next to the increasing pile of crates and gave a confirming nod. "Why do you need this many stripper poles?!"

"You can never have many stripper poles." The Boss confirmed, adjusting his sunglasses for added flare.

"But there are twenty damn boxes here!" Tab shouted, struggling to lift a box with Slate and Mew's aid.

"Thirty, counting the remaining ones still in the ship." Shaundi groaned, working with Pierce and Johnny to cart more crates down the OGC-1's ramp. Collective groans came all around, meanwhile Mathilda was illogically holding a single crate, no doubt weighing in at four-hundred pounds, above her head with a single hand, without a care in her head. Meanwhile, Hamilton and Jay were struggling to move one crate that had been set down precariously near the edge of the roof.

"Good thing these are wooden crates…" Jay said, trying to keep a positive vibe. "A lot less heavy than steel."

"Yeah, but they're not as sturdy." Hamilton complained, wiping sweat from his furry brow. "One wrong move and _blam_ , entire crate falls apart." In almost a cruel cosmic joke of poor timing, Mathilda set her crate down next to the OGC-1 crew with a resounding thud, startling the co-pilot into bashing his head against the crate and causing the wooden lid to almost sporadically pop off, sending down a raining shower of stripper poles down below.

* * *

"Y'know… This place is nice." The Baron muttered, standing idly at the front of the hotel and taking in the scenic nature of it all. "Sometimes… y'all just need to get away from all that civilization 'n shit. Forget about cars, taxes, city folk, television, all that shit… and ya find serenity…" Content with his musing, the Baron sat himself down on the steps with a smile. "Ah hope this place has wi-fi."

"LOOK OUT BELOW!" Exclaimed someone's voice from the rooftops. Startled, the Black Baron looked up and saw what appeared to be a series of metallic grey dots falling towards him… really fast…. And may be sharp.

"Aw hell naw…" The Baron complained. In the fraction of a second he looked up, the falling stripper poles pierced clean through his body, impaling him in multiple places across his body and pinning him to the ground. The Baron's body was now a hole-riddled mess of torn fabric, shattered boned, and mangled flesh akin to a pin-cushion. Everyone witnessing the display felt bad, with Mathilda slowly turning her head towards Hamilton, the koala-man's face frozen in a mortified expression.

"You clean that up." Mathilda ordered.

* * *

 _Author's Note: FINALLY! Well, here it is, the first story update post-IDA Shutdown. I'd like to thank all of you who supported me during these hard times, and this one is for you. But now I'm back in the swing of things, and now stories will actually get updates for once! So anyway, next update will come eventually, and hopefully you all enjoyed this one. Also, the song of the chapter is "_ That's Enough" _from the Jet Set Radio soundtrack._

 _~Mal Masque_


	7. Chapter 5: Ride!

**Chapter Five: "Ride!"**

* * *

In the busy streets of Japan, a certain five young men and women cautiously slinked about one of the alleys, keeping their eyes peeled for a certain marked cargo truck. The team of Beat, Gum, Garam, Panty and Stocking left the Kobito Hotel shortly after the mission statement's conclusion, heading into the city proper undercover while the three tech-savvy Agents worked out proper plans and coordinates. So far, all they were told was to find any official looking car that might be guarded by PMCs, and that was it. Everyone stood quietly in the alley, hidden behind several garbage cans and dumpsters while Beat cautiously peered out into the street, watching idle citizens passing by.

"Any word from Yo-Yo or those two Saints?" Beat whispered. Gum checked her headset, awaiting any response from the gang back at base.

"Nothing." Gum confirmed. "Not even so much as some of his weird tech-jive talk." Everyone let out a sigh and continued waiting. Even though a majority of this team tended to act extremely unpredictably, even an idiot would know that rushing into something blindly with a live criminal record on your head is a surefire way to either get caught or killed. Panty groaned in frustration, banging her head against the concrete wall.

"UGH, I'm getting bored!" Panty complained. "When are those egg-heads gonna tell us where the fuckin' truck is?"

"Relax, will ya?" Stocking said, slugging her more irate sister on the shoulder. "Getting your tits in a twist won't get ya anywhere."

"Both of you, keep it down!" Gum whispered harshly. "If anyone hears you two swearing up a storm, we'll get arrested for sure!" The group sat in silence once more, but finally a sound broke out in the form of crackling radio static.

" _This is Scientifically Transmitted Data, calling Angel's Touch._ " The voice of Kinzie called via the GGs headsets. " _Come in, Angel's Touch._ " Happy to have at least some info, Beat pressed a finger to the side of his headset.

"Beat here," Beat announced. "We're doing code names now? Nobody told us."

" _Pierce thought it up on the fly,_ " Kinzie explained. " _So now we're going by code names. Matt, Yo-Yo and I are going by 'Scientifically Transmitted Data' or…_ "

"STD for short," Gum retorted. "Yeah, that joke's about as obvious as the Baron blowing up his ego."

" _Blame your friend for that one._ " Kinzie reluctantly admitted. " _His idea, as was Angel's Touch. Since you got the Anarchy Sisters with you, he thought it was fitting._ "

"Eh, I give it a six for creativity." Stocking shrugged.

" _Anyway, we got good news._ " Kinzie continued. " _After taking a digital sledgehammer through a lot of firewalls and bypassing several government restrictions, Matt and I managed to wipe everyone's criminal records, so no worries about being arrested on sight._ " A relieved sigh washed over the group. " _Also, Yo-Yo managed to locate our score._ " Garam pulled out his medallion for everyone to see, a green holographic projection emerging and displaying a map of the immediate area. " _We traced the unique electronic signal the PMs generate to a stockpile truck of unprogrammed tech right here._ " An arrow popped up on the map, pointing at an alleyway not too far from their position. " _If you manage to hijack that truck, we can use the PMs for ourselves and maybe do a little modification to them._ "

"Standard snatch and grab, huh?" Beat asked, slightly chuckling. "Alright, anything else you wanna tell us?"

" _Just one: Don't get caught_ " Kinzie warned. " _Good luck, have fun._ " With a click, the call was disconnected and the map had vanished. Fortunately, they knew exactly where they needed to head.

"Well, let's get going." Beat said, adjusting his goggles. Everyone nodded and headed out the alley into the street. Luckily, no one seemed to recognized the formerly listed criminals while this gang of young men and women hurried past several people. It was pretty surprising, especially since all five of them stuck out like rainbow markers in a pencil box, but they took the lack of notice as an advantage and reached their goal. The white armored truck was parked in the alleyway, back door opened up to reveal several metal boxes no doubt stocked to the brim with unregistered PMs. The two PMC guards assigned to the vehicle appeared to be having a conversation in their seats, unaware of the gang of delinquents slipping in through the back.

"It was about _this_ big." One of the guards said, holding his hands apart at a sizeable length. "Tip to tip. Strangest thing I've ever seen." The other guard gave him a low whistle in response. "I know, right? Then some top-tier investigators with those shiny emblems come in and start collecting them up. Every single one, just gone!"

"That's weird…" The other guard said, unaware of the rustling going on behind him. "Why does the government want to keep people from seeing a bunch of big white feathers all over the place?" Before his friend could give him an answer, two sets of hands reached out from behind the chairs and grabbed the guards' mouths, shutting them up as they were dragged into the back. Anyone looking into the alley would see the truck bouncing and rocking back and forth, but thankfully, the blind public saw nothing.

"That should take care of 'em." Garam said, hefting the two unconscious PMCs out of the truck and into the alley. He popped open one of the boxes, incredibly surprised to see that each of the boxes was filled to bursting with PMs. They had struck the censorship goldmine. "And we got the goods, plus loads of backups in case something gets screwy."

"Yeah, sounds great." Panty said, as she and Stocking took the front seats and donned the PMC hat disguises. The rest of the GGs carefully gathered in the back and carefully situated themselves on the crate, ready to hit the road. "Alright, let's get this sucker movin'!" Without wasting any time (and extremely thankful those PMCs left the keys in the ignition), Panty started the truck and immediately drove out of the alley into the street. However, unknown to the group, one of the guards was still awake and kicking, activating his PM and contacting an emergency line.

"I need any nearby police officers and PMC Officials to report," The guard grunted. "We have a stolen government vehicle containing several unprogrammed Peace Makers traveling fast down Tokyo. They are armed and dangerous, possibly amongst the group that attacked the airport earlier."

"Roger that." A gruff voice responded on the other line. "All units are converging on the location as we speak. Don't worry, kid, Onishima's on the case." Call concluded, the PMC officer decided to join his buddy in his nap… God, his head hurt…

* * *

"Wow, looks like it's smooth sailing from here." Stocking commented. "No traffic, no shortage of gas, no stupid stuff to get in the way." The goth angel hopped back in her seat, nibbling lightly on a cookie. "Things are starting to look up for us!" Gum's gloved hand popped out of the back and thumped the back of Stocking's head, while Panty cautiously drove down a surprisingly clear street.

"Idiot!" Gum admonished. "Do you want Murphy to hear you?!" Panty scoffed, adjusting one of the rear-view mirrors while Stocking rubbed her head and lightly whined.

"The fuck is Murphy?" Panty asked, a cocky smirk emerging on her face. "Some spooky imaginary friend that tells you when your period is?" Before the blonde angel could so much as bark a laugh, Gum whacked her on the top of the head as well.

"No, you heavenly bimbo, Murphy as in Murphy's Law!" Gum retorted. "The law of reality and physics that everything that could and can go wrong…" Suddenly, the sound of police sirens pierced through the air, much to the dismay of everyone, especially the orange-haired skater. "Will." Stocking glanced out the rear-view mirror on her side and saw that the entire street was crowded, lane-to-lane, with police officers, several in PMC uniforms, and _man_ did they look pissed.

" _Attention criminal scum!_ " Shouted a gruff and aggressive voice over a loudspeaker. " _You are acting in violation of the law! Pull your vehicle over now and face arrest, or we WILL open fire!_ " Beat, Gum and Garam blinked in surprise. Something about that voice, the gruff tone of a man who smoked at least twenty cigarettes a day, and the overtly aggressive attitude sounded vaguely familiar. Out of sheer curiosity, Beat slowly opened the back door of the truck and peered out to get a look at the cops behind them… and couldn't believe his eyes.

"Gum, Garam, you are _not_ gonna believe this." Beat said, slightly chuckling to himself. The two other GGs joined their leader in peering out the door and were utterly flabbergasted at what they saw. Leading the charge in one of the squad cars was a gruff-looking man, dressed in a dark green overcoat and sporting the nastiest look on his face. The man looked like he hadn't shaved in months, sporting a very dark five-o'clock shadow, and had an oddly flat-styled brown pompadour that stood out nearly a foot away from his head (if that somehow makes sense). Granted, it wasn't the voice, or the face, or the clothes, or the hair that really drew the GGs' attention, but rather the grey revolver with the long barrel resting in his free hand.

"Is that…" Gum couldn't believe her eyes. "Captain Onishima?!" Beat slowly nodded his head, while Garam shook his in disbelief.

"Couldn't be." Garam grunted. "Probably some lookalike that exists in _this_ Universe. I mean, you all remember what Watcher told us back in training, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'In the infinite Multiverse, you're bound to run into yourself or someone you know one way or another'." Beat recited. "We know; hell, I've seen 'em, but I'm telling you _that's_ totally Onishima!" As the three teens were arguing, the truck hit a bump and the doors fully came open, exposing the criminals in the act. The police captain driving the van was genuinely surprised when he recognized the kids in the truck, but that surprise was replaced by a malicious grin.

"Well ain't this a surprise?" Onishima said to himself. "If it ain't those spray paintin' GG punks from Shibuya…" With a chuckle, he clicked on the speaker and shouted at the truck. " _I'd say it's nice to see you punks again, but I'm still miffed at having to buy new jackets every time one of you brats snuck up on me!_ "

"Yeah, that's totally Onishima." Beat commented.

" _I was wonderin' where you punks went off to after that whole shindig with the Rokkaku,_ " Onishima said. " _But frankly, I'm just glad my new position gives me freedom to put you punks behind bars!_ " It was then that Beat noticed that Onishima had an odd pin on his jacket which he knew the police officer never had before. Using his goggles, Beat focused in on the pin and saw it was a golden badge displaying a shield and a winged sword; an icon associated with their current enemy.

"Crap, Onishima's with the Order of Purity." Beat grumbled. "This is _not good_."

" _Alright, people, this is Captain Onishima speaking!_ " Onishima announced to the other squad cars. " _I want all available forces on my position ASAP! The carjackers are armed and dangerous, repeat, armed and dangerous! Use of firearms is authorized!_ " As Onishima chuckled darkly while his gun pointed at the car, Beat slammed the truck door shut and scrambled to the front.

"You might wanna floor it." Beat urged. Several gunshots started ringing out across the street, one of them shooting a rear-view mirror clean off its hinges. "Now." Panty scoffed, tossing her hair aside and turned to her sister.

"Stockin', take the wheel." Panty ordered, hopping out of her seat while her sister scrambled to take the driver's seat. She shoved Beat aside and kicked open the door, glaring harshly at the road and the entire squadron of cars. "Hey, pig-fuckin' assholes!" Ignoring the gasp from the innocent bystanders at the profanity, Panty decided to kick it to the next level, and with a quick flash of her hands, the lewd angel held her ultimate weapon in her hands: a pair of blue panties.

"How the hell did that happen?!" Gum gawked. "I barely saw her hands move!"

"Years of experience, kid." Panty cheekily retorted. "But here's the best part." In a flash of bright white light, the undergarments transformed in the angel's hands, and turned into something even greater: a uniquely designed bluish-white pistol, with a barrel in similar design to a pair of women's underwear. "Oh hey, Stockin', could ya pop in that CD the Baron gave us? Need some kickass fightin' music." She idly waved her gun about in contemplation. "I'm thinkin'… Track Sixteen."

"Got it!" Stocking chirped, extracting said disk and shoving it into the vehicle's radio. A bouncy, speedy tune began playing from the radio, the team bobbing their heads to the beat while Panty stood ready with her firearm.

"Not what I usually jam to," Panty said. "But I dig it!" With a quick click of her pistol, the high-speed chase was on!

" _ALL UNITS, FIRE!_ " Onishima barked, all of the police cars now sporting several armed men sticking out of the side seats, pistols at the ready. Gunshots rang out, but they all flew too wide and Panty barely needed to do anything about it.

"Oh, yeah, we goin' to ride." Panty said, taking aim at the cars. " _And they saying he the best to get it,_

 _He don't spit it, he reliving his life with it,"_ Five white, hot bullets fired from Panty's pistol, zooming through the air and hitting their mark, taking out tires of two cars and hitting one guy in the shoulder.

" _He don't pivot, he straight line of sight with it,_

 _He never dull, he rhyme edge of the knife with it,_

 _Yeah, and he past trying to price it,_

 _It's way out of your range. If y'all like this,_

 _Just cut a check for the price of your life,_

 _And maybe I can get you a little something on a license!"_ Stocking took a hard right turn down another street, hoping to dodge the cops. However, Onishima was persistent, and more cars came to back him up while the turn cost Angel's Kiss one of the boxes of PMs flying out the back.

"CAREFUL!" Garam warned, bracing himself against several of the boxes. "We lose these boxes, the others are going to have our necks!"

"SHUT UP," Stocking shouted. "I'm trying to drive here!" They took another hard turn, and even more squad cars followed after them.

" _It's… Been a long time coming."_ Panty continued to rap, a manic smile on her face as she watched more squad cars veer off the road. " _The squad ready, the whole world is humming,_

 _He so deadly with it, but so young,_

 _That it's damn near impossible to see him coming,_

 _Until you see them lames running,_

 _Trying to get out of the way of the gunning,_

 _Its shots fired when the dude get a mic,_

 _And soon as you catch a line, boy, that heart rate plummet!"_ Her smile vanished when the only sounds her pistol was making was a click. "FUCK, I'm out! Cover me!" She ducked behind a box, reloading her heavenly bullets as the police retaliated, destroying not one, but four boxes with bullets. Panty swore, kicking the damaged boxes out the truck and sending them careening into the road.

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT THE BOXES?!" Garam shouted, but Panty ignored him. Beat wracked his brains to figure something out, something that could get the cops off their backs. A bullet pinged the door, striking near the skater's head.

" _This for all those ruined jackets, ya punks!_ " Onishima cackled, firing his absurdly large gun at the car. A lightbulb went off in Beat's head, and he quickly went rummaging through his bag for just the ticket.

"Garam, I need some sports tape!" Beat requested. Garam pulled out a roll of sports tape from his pocket and tossed it to Beat. Immediately, the goggled teen went to work with a bundle of spray cans, strapping them together in a tight package. " _Viola!_ " He turned to Panty and tossed the package over to the angel. "Think you can shoot a midair target?" Panty examined the bundled spray cans, and her wicked smile returned.

"Kid, I like your style of thinking." She chuckled. Once again opening the doors, Panty held the package in one hand and her pistol in the other. Onishima's scowling grin vanished with a look of confusion. "Hey copper! Got a present for ya!" With a heaving throw, she tossed the canister out the back, sending it flying into the air and hitting Onishima's car right on the windshield. Panty took aim with her pistol, and Onishima could only look dismayed.

"Oh man…." He moaned. A single shot fired, and the spray cans exploded in a shower of bright colors. Almost all the police cars in the front row were completely covered in a rainbow of paint, windshields completely obscured by wet paint and the Japanese police were barely able to drive straight.

"HOO-AH!" Beat cheered, high fiving both Gum and Garam. "Suck on that, Onishima!" Stocking and Panty let out their own cheers as the squad cars started slowing down, but they clearly weren't out. Onishima, face completely covered in pink, blue and green paint, wiped his eyes clean and growled ferociously, reloading his gun for one last shot. He fired, the bullet somehow managing to hit one of the tires of the truck, blowing it out and causing the truck to start swerving.

"AH SHIT!" Stocking swore, trying to keep the truck steady as two more boxes of PMs flew out the back. Everyone tried to brace themselves, trying to stay in place as two more boxes went flying out the back. The vehicle careened off the road, swerving down the street and banging against nearly everything in its path. "GET THE FUCKING DOORS!" Using what strength they had, Panty and Garam pulled shut the doors to the truck, keeping everyone and what little loot they had left inside. The stolen truck turned down an off-beaten path from the road, while Onishima and the rest of the squad cars pulled to a complete stop. A few PMCs exited their vehicles, but Onishima waved them off.

"Let 'em go." Onishima said, reaching around his jacket. "We'll get those punks later… I swear it." He paused, realizing he was searching for nothing. "Right, Public Moral laws means no smoking… Guh…"

* * *

"Huh, that's interesting." Garterbelt muttered, going through a newspaper that he had retrieved from the OGC-1 and lounging on a heart-shaped chair. While the STD group and Angel's Kiss were off doing their own thing, and after the Boss _insisted_ at least three crates-worth of stripper-poles were installed across the building, all the other Middle Finger Agents went about the Hotel (which henceforth has been dubbed as Middle Finger HQ, for the sake of idiots like the Black Baron being unable to pronounce the proper name of the Hotel) doing their own thing. The Saints wandered off to do something, the Baron and Mathilda went to secure a room for themselves, Jay and Hamilton were back on the ship taking inventory, the other GGs were here and there, and Garterbelt was content with himself as he sat in the lobby, reading the _Warp Weekly_ , the most efficient and clever newspaper of happenings in the Multiverse and the various Universal Powers.

"What's interesting?" Pierce asked, walking into the lobby with a cardboard box labeled as planning supplies (an added note warning that the Boss never touch it). "They post the roster for the next Grifball Tournament?"

"Nah, but you'll bet yo' ass I'm betting the Krogans win this one." Garterbelt grunted, his eyes firmly affixed to the page. "There's a whole lotta shit in the news section. One of the Chaos Councilors just went missin', the Army just made some sorta magic thing that copies other magic, and to top it all off, a Dimensional Fusion just collectively shit its pants." Quirking an eyebrow, Pierce set his box down on the counter and joined the irate preacher.

"Heard about that last thing." Pierce said. "Gameverse, right? Heard it's one of the largest of its kind. Somethin' about an Evil and Chaos overload releasing some big world-ending monster and a buncha Evil Alternates got loose." Garterbelt's response was just a grunt of confirmation. "Whole Multiverse is falling to shit."

"Eh, shit like this happens all over." Garterbelt muttered. "People go missing, things get invented, apocalypses happen. What makes a place like the Gameverse so special? Just because it's one of those big-ass Dimensional Fusions don't make it special." He paused to drink a cup of coffee he happened to have on standby, while Pierce simply looked aghast.

"You're… just going to pass off an apocalypse as nothing special?" Pierce asked, eyes wide. "Billions of people are either dead or slaves to a bunch of monsters! Thousands of universes are bursting into flames because of it! Only a handful of survivors are left alive, barely struggling to survive! Relief teams are trying their hardest to fix all the shit those bastards broke! And _that's_ nothing special to you?!"

"Yeah." Garterbelt simply said, returning to his paper.

"What the hell happened to you to make you such a stick-up-the-ass cynic?" Pierce asked.

"Was a massive douche, died a bitch death, got brought back to life in the beginning of humanity, became immortal, was given an ambiguous task by God, and now I babysit a pair of skank angels until they buy their way back to heaven." Garterbelt simply stated, not once looking up from his paper. "So nothin' special." Pierce had no words, and luckily, he didn't need to answer, as the front door swung open, and the away team burst in, sweating and exhausted as most of them collapsed on the floor.

"Fuck… That… Mission…." Panty gasped, before finally falling on the heap of people in front of her. Garterbelt and Pierce, completely ignoring the group, peered out the front door and saw the stolen PMC truck, riddled with bullets, sporting a popped tire, crashed into a nearby tree. Something that could only be described as 'mission successful'.

"I'll go get everyone else and let 'em know." Pierce said, turning and leaving, while Garterbelt simply shook his head at the pile of exhausted Agents. One by one, everyone gathered in the lobby, while most of Angel's Kiss was sprawled against a couch, and were gathered around the loot… The surprisingly small loot.

"Three boxes?" Shaundi asked, staring at the three metal and plastic boxes hurled about on the floor. "An entire truckload of unprogrammed Peace Makers, and you only managed to get _three fucking boxes_?"

"Hey, we were desperate, alright?!" Gum shouted, slumped over the arm of her couch. "Most of the boxes were either shot to hell or we had to toss 'em to get the freakin' police off our backs!"

"Wait, the police were after you guys?" Tab asked, genuinely concerned for his friends.

"Yeah, and you won't BELIEVE who was leading the charge!" Beat said, flopping around in his seat. "None other than Captain Stick-in-the-Mud Onishima himself." The GGs were extremely surprised at this little tidbit of news. "And don't go and say he's just some Alternate or something, he's _the same Onishima_ from back home, working with the Order of Purity." While the GGs were busy talking about their old foe coming back, the other members were busy examining their new goods.

"Well, the tech is pretty advanced," Kinzie said, looking at the little metal and plastic collar. "But give me, Matt and the kid a few hours or so and we should have…." She glanced at Matt, the hacker trying to snap one of the PMs apart to examine the inside. "About eight of these properly gutted, reprogramed, maybe even customized."

"Only eight?" The Boss asked, slightly surprised. "Hate to break it to ya, but three boxes full of these doo-dads means more shit, right?" Kinzie narrowed her eyes behind her glasses, walked up to the Boss and lightly knocked on his head.

"Trial and error, Boss." Kinzie bluntly stated. "We're going to have to break a lot of these to figure out how they tick, _then_ we gotta figure out how to reprogram them to work for us. Luckily, all the messing around with Zin tech might make our jobs easier, but until then," She walked over to one of the boxes and picked it up. "I can only promise eight. We're going to have to work a strategy around using only eight of these." She started off to exit the lobby, pausing for a moment to turn to the rest of the group. "Unless you want those Purity dicks to know where we are every second of the day for the duration we're stuck here."

"I think we're good, Kinzie." Pierce said, helping Matt lift one of the boxes. "We'll figure something out." Kinzie nodded, while she and Matt headed off to do their thing.

"C'mon, kid, we got work to do." Matt called out. The red-headed GG nodded and hopped to his feet, turning to his friends with a cheery look.

"Yo, I think I'm getting in good with these guys." Yo-Yo partly whispered. "I'm learnin' all kinds of cool stuff I didn't realize, yo." With a brief salute, Yo-Yo skated off with the third box and followed after the rest of the tech team of Middle Finger.

"Alright, better tell Cinder we got the PMs," Garterbelt said, pulling out his medallion. "Probably already got our next move planned." Everyone nodded, and in mere moments, the medallion displayed the irate agent, still looking pissed as ever.

"About time you guys called me." Cinder said, clutching a file of official documents in his hand. "Now what is it? I got reports from those Geek Squad guys about the test of their Penance Chamber knockoff I need to send to the higher ups, so make it quick." Beat quickly explained the situation, making sure to emphasize how much control the Order of Purity seemed to have with not only the PMCs, but also the Police Force as well. When it came to the details of the acquired PMs, Cinder looked oddly pleased for once. "Alright, nice work on not fucking up most of the mission."

"But we're only going to have eight working PMs." Beat pointed out. "And there are a lot of us."

"Eh, more stolen PMs working under the radar would probably attract too much attention anyway." Cinder dismissively said. "Plus, once your tech team figures out how they work, just send the reports to the Think Tank guys and we can make more for the rest of you. Win-win. This just means you gotta think about who you're giving the PMs for now."

"I suggest that those of us taking a more active role undercover should wear them." Zhang He offered, stretching one of his legs in ballet fashion. "While everyone else takes the more… risky and risqué nature of our duty." Cinder nodded, adjusting his glasses a bit.

"Points for the fancy-pants fop." Cinder praised… supposedly. "Figure that part out yourselves." A slight beeping interrupted the call, the orange-haired man's hologram flickering a bit. "Shit, the Organization Council's looking for their report on the damn Darkness situation. Listen, it'll be a while before I can give you guys an official mission, but you guys can figure out something. Right now, just try and gather as much information as you can. Find out more about the PMC, the other Naught Terrorists, and more on whatever Purity is up to. Agent Cinder, signing off." Almost immediately after Cinder's vague instructions, the hologram vanished once again, leaving everyone present scratching their heads and wondering 'now what'. Finally, it was Panty who decided to break the ice.

"Look, it's been a real fuckin' long day." Panty complained, rising from her seat on the couch. "So, I'm gonna go find a room to nap in. Wake me when we get those Anti-Swear collars working."

"Yeah, me too." Stocking said, following suit with her sister. "Driving to avoid those cops shooting at us was a lot of work, plus all the crap that went down at the airport." A few other tired agreements came afterwards, and the small crowd started to disburse.

"Hold on a sec, angels." Garterbelt called out, prompting the two sisters to turn around. "As much as I hate to admit it, you earned this." With deft movements, Garterbelt tossed a room key over to the pair, Panty catching it in her hand and examining it with surprise.

"The penthouse room key?! BITCHIN'!" Panty cheered, Stocking equally excited while a few more select people voiced their complaints, among them being the Baron.

"Yeah, there are two beds up there you can share." Garterbelt simply stated. "Don't make me regret giving that to you two." Not even bothering to give their thanks, the Anarchy Sisters took off to examine their new room, while other parties were… less than pleased.

"Shit, I really wanted that room…" The Boss muttered, tucking his hands in his pockets. "I found the key to the fucking thing, for Christ's sake."

"They _did_ help get the PMs for us, though." Shaundi admitted. "And Garterbelt did say whoever did a good job doing their thing would get the room."

"Well, none of us did SHIT," The Baron loudly exclaimed, slamming his golden fist on a nearby table. "So, the whole thing was fuckin' rigged! I wanna recount!" While Mathilda comforted the fuming bounty hunter, Zhang He gracefully danced over to the Black Baron and tapped his muscular shoulder.

"The battle is lost, dear Baron." Zhang He delicately stated. "Simply move on. There are further wars to fight in the name of restoration and raunchiness. Ta!" As much as Zhang He felt he was helping out, he wasn't aware that as he danced away, a ferocious bull had been repeatedly poked with a stick and released unto a herd of orphans.

"Move on? MOVE ON?!" The Baron roared, ignorant of the fact that only he and Mathilda stood alone in the lobby. "Like hell does the Black motha fuckin' Baron stop starin', _move on,_ when the Baron has been robbed!" He paused, rubbing the scruff of his beard as a malicious plan worked its way into his head. "And the Baron just thought of a way to get back that which was stolen from him… Heh heh hah…"

All Mathilda could do was roll her eyes. "Oh boy…."

* * *

"If those damn angelic bimbos think they can get a better room than the Black motha fuckin' Baron," The Baron grumbled as he lounged about on the slightly old, yet still comfortable bed. "Then they got another thing comin'! And do ya think you could go easy on the sawin'? Ah'm getting' a migraine the size o' Varrigan City here." Mathilda angrily paused, staying her movements as she ran a steel saw through the ceiling whilst standing atop the nightstand. "Right, that was stupid. Keep up the good work, baby." Rolling her eyes, she continued do her work, wiping bits of sawdust from her hair as she went to work while the Baron resumed his lounging. "Y'know, for an abandoned shithole out in the middle o' Japanese nowhere, this place is _nice_. Sure, there's a bit too much pink on the walls 'n shit, and the Baron can do without the weird-ass heart décor, not to mention those holes Ah can only _assume_ their nasty purpose for, but other than that, the Baron could get used to this place, wouldn't you?" Mathilda said nothing, continuing to saw through the ceiling with slightly more vigor than before. "Not only that, baby, but it's gonna get even better when we burst our way into the penthouse room and kick those fuckin' floozy angels out from underneath 'em!" The Baron cackled, clapping his gauntleted hands together as Mathilda nearly completed her sawing. "It's the perfect plan! Ain't Ah right, baby?" Mathilda gave the Baron a knowing smirk, just as she was just about finished. Meanwhile, on the floor above, Panty and Stocking were… concerned with what they were seeing.

"Okay, I know I'm tired," Panty said, gawking at the odd sight on the floor. "But I _know_ I'm not imagining a sawblade sticking through the floor like a goddamn Looney Tunes cartoon."

"You're telling me." Stocking commented, watching the sawblade circle around Panty's bed while the blonde angel still sat atop it. "Shouldn't you… move or something?"

"I would… But I kinda wanna see where this goes." Panty admitted, reclining on her bed. Finally, the saw completed its circle and zipped back into the floor. "That it? I was expectin' a little more…"

 _CRACK!_ _CRASH! CRUNCH!_

Stocking blinked for a moment, starting to process that her sister and her bed had completely vanished through the floor and something was violently crushed underneath it. The goth angel poked her head through the hole and saw three things: A dazed Panty, Mathilda with a saw, and the Baron's arms sticking out from underneath a crushed bed.

"Aw… hell… naw…." The Baron weakly rasped out, every single bone in his body completely crushed from beneath the combined weight of an angel, her bed, and the section of floor beneath it all, before eventually, his lungs filled up with blood and punctured bones, and the Baron passed from this world. Satisfied at her work being done, Mathilda twirled the saw around one finger, and gracefully exited the murder-scene of a room.

"Oh baby, didn't expect you to break the bed with _that_ one!" Panty groggily said, eyes spinning and a thin line of drool leaking from her mouth. Stocking did the proper thing a sibling needed to do when her sister was injured… and walked away to sleep in her own bed. The day was very long, very busy, very painful, and it was only going to get tougher from here on out.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I finally did it! After overcoming a severe addiction to JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, beating both Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc_ and _the thumb-bleedingly difficult VVVVVV, blasting through a CRAPLOAD of source material for Shimoneta, Jet Set Radio, and a future source involving a group of zealot super soldiers, I have finally given 2016 its final kick in the nuts with this GRATIFYING chapter update, featuring song_ "Ride!" _by Ox, and the unveiling of a new antagonist, Captain Onishima from the Jet Set Radio series. Well, I hope this was satisfactory, and thus, I can conclude this terrible year on a high note. See you all in 2017, with more updates along the way._

 _~Mal Masque_

 _Story Recommendation: Remember when I said this was a thing back when the Writer's Guild existed? Well, now with a concluding update, I would like to continue this trend by suggesting stories for you to read. So, without a do, I'd like to present you with the wonderfully stupid and insane_ "The Fist of Remnant" _by BrightestDarkness._ "The Fist of Remnant" _is a delightfully absurd crossover between RWBY and One Punch Man, in which, through a freak incident (like most of these displaced crossovers) Saitama and Genos end up in the World of Remnant and start inadvertently wrecking the place while Beacon Academy is reluctant to take them in to find a way home. It's fun, it's silly, it's intense, it's action-packed, and most of all, it's just a boatload of fun reading. Give it a check, if you're looking for a fun crossover to read._


End file.
